The Farm Girl
by apchick10
Summary: When the Company of Thorin Oakenshield camped for a night in an abandoned farm house in Arnor, they didn't expect to run into trolls... or a farm girl with courage and heart and the strange ability to see things before they happen.
1. Prologue

"Uncle Bilbo?"

Bilbo looks up to see his little nephew Frodo standing in the doorway, dark curls wild. Little Frodo scuffs his toe into the floor and clasps his hands behind his back. Bilbo pushes the map he has been working on aside. Recently he has taken to drawing maps as a way to pass the time when his mind wanders to memories of past adventures. "Yes, Frodo?"

"There's a lady at the door to see you," Frodo says, swaying side to side the way children do when they have too much pent up energy to stay still. Bilbo's forehead crinkles in confusion. "She said…. She said she lived in a town by a lake," Frodo adds haltingly, trying to be helpful.

"Well, then, I guess we must go find out what she needs," Bilbo declares, slapping his things and rising to follow Frodo towards the open front door. He does not know many women and he certainly can't recall a woman who lived by a lake. Who could possibly be at his door? Could she be mistaken? It's true that there aren't many Bagginses in the Shire but he has kept rather to himself these past years. The possibility that this woman has come to the wrong residence is higher than the possibility that he knows her.

When he rounds the corner, the woman is facing away from him, standing on the outside edge of the threshold. She is small, and wouldn't have to stoop to enter the hobbit hole. She is dressed in a simple brown cloak and worn gear favored by rangers and weary travelers. She carries with her only the essentials for traversing Middle-Earth, all she would need to travel long distances in the wilderness.

The sun flashes in her honey-gold hair, streaked with the beginnings of silver, waving to end just past her shoulders. Bilbo catches his breath as a sudden pang of familiarity strikes him. _Not a town by the lake. Laketown. Can it be?_

She turns then and every doubt fades away. Hazel eyes, bright and fierce, long, dark lashes, and strong and beautiful face. Her lips part in a small, shy smile.

"Oh my word," Bilbo breathes. "Can it really be?"


	2. One

"Twice like a barn owl, twice like a brown owl, no once like a barn owl, twice like a brown owl?"

Bilbo Baggins cannot believe the speed with which he found himself in this situation. One moment the bowls of stew were being taken from his hands by Fili and Kili and the next they were shoving him towards the troll camp with strange instructions about owls. He doesn't have the faintest idea what to do. He's a hobbit from the Shire, not a troll-slayer for goodness sake.

Quiet on his hobbit feet, Bilbo creeps towards the shimmering firelight of the troll's camp. He hopes Fili and Kili are behind him somewhere in the trees because this is too big of a task for just one person, let alone one hobbit. He hears grunting and snorting up ahead and disgusting sounds of a troll blowing it's nose with enough force to shake the trees.

"Mutton yesterday, mutton today and, blimey if it don't look like mutton again tomorrow," one of the trolls says in its deep voice.

The trolls are repulsive, arguing amongst themselves about how to cook horse. He stays out of the firelight, low to the ground in the trees and bushes that surround the fire in the middle of the clearing. Bilbo spies the pen where the troll is putting the two newest horses they have nabbed.

As Bilbo approaches the pen where the horses were kept, he is met with a most alarming sight. Inside the pen, propped against one of the posts, is a young woman, bound hand and foot and cruelly gagged with a piece of rope. There is dried blood along her hairline and the leg of her pants are torn, revealing a nasty looking laceration. She is a small woman, slight in stature and heartbreakingly thin and malnourished from captivity.

He briefly wonders how she could have come to be here. There are no settlements in the area aside from the abandoned farm house that the dwarves are currently using as an encampment. A lone traveler, perhaps? But it is rare for a woman to be traveling alone, let alone in this area of the world. Her clothes are nondescript; she could be anyone.

She is unconscious, head lolling to the side. Gently, he laid a hand on her shoulder and put a finger to his lips as she roused.

She comes to suddenly, with a muffled noise of surprise and a wince of pain. He motions for her to be quiet and she nods slightly, eyes wide with shock at seeing him here before her. Carefully he pulls the rope from her mouth and she shifts her jaw experimentally to relieve the lingering discomfort in her neck. Her lips are cracked at the edges and a thin trickle of blood winds its way down to her chin. He tries to untie her legs but the knots are too convoluted. He feels a small tap of fingers on his shoulder. Quietly, she taps the corner of her eye, points to him, looks at the trolls and then taps her hip. Upon seeing his confused expression, she repeats the gesture. Catching on, he looks over at the troll's hip. There is a wicked looking blade attached to the snot-nosed troll's side. Bilbo looks back at her incredulously.

She points to the knot holding the pen shut and mimes an untying motion. Bilbo takes the hint and gives it a try. It proves to be an exercise in futility. There is too much grit and goodness knows what else encrusted in the hemp. The girl mimes that she wants to help but can't due to her bound wrists and legs which are equally restrained. Bilbo nods and takes a big gulp. He knows what this means. He stares at the troll's hip, at the blade swinging back and forth and clenches and unclenches his hands in preparation. As he turns, he feels soft, reassuring fingers on his arm and the small gesture is enough to give him courage. Her eyes urge him to be careful.

Bilbo creeps towards the trolls, shushing the horses when they whinny, shuffling away in disgust from the spinal bones of some animal consumed long ago. "Just needs a sprinkle of squirrel daddle," one of the trolls says and Bilbo freezes as the smallest troll reaches towards him for his grog. A small fight breaks out, one of them shrieking "Shut your caker!"

Their obliviousness would have amused him if he hadn't been so terrified. Hesitantly, he reached for the blade but ducked quickly as the troll swings his hand towards its back. The troll stands and Bilbo crouches down as low as his hobbit legs will allow him to squat. It scratched its behind, much to Bilbo's disgust and then sat back down. Bilbo took a deep breath and stood. He used his hands to measure and calculate the length of the handle of the blade. Just as he grasps the leather-covered hilt, a giant troll hand swings around to grab ahold of him and promptly use the poor hobbit as a handkerchief.

There was a moment of shocked silence as Bilbo realized he was covered in troll snot and the troll looked incredulously at the thing in his large hand.

"Blimey, look what's come out o' me 'ooter!" it exclaimed. "It's got arms and legs and everything!"

Bilbo and the troll regard each other in a mixed kind of shock and disgust, the troll because it's too stupid to know what it has wriggling in its hand and Bilbo because he is drenched in troll boogers.

"What is it?" Asks the troll who was discussing spices in the stew earlier.

"I don't know but I don't like the way it squirms around!" The snot-nosed troll drops Bilbo onto the ground as if burned and Bilbo gasps upon the impact. He hurriedly tries to get to his feet and run but finds himself surrounded by the three trolls. He quickly darts a glance over to the pen and sees the girl moving, eyes round as teacup saucers, trying to free herself and come and help him.

"What are you then?" The burly troll with the flat-face demands of him, threatening Bilbo with his rough-hewn knife. "An over sized squirrel?"

"I'm a burglar-hobbit," Bilbo says, panicked and adled.

"A burglarhobbit?" The snot-nosed one says, confused, his small brain incapable of much more thought.

"Can we cook him?" The knife wielding troll asks in his low gravelly voice.

"We can try!" The snotty troll hoots and makes a grab for Bilbo.

Bilbo tries to run but the cook-troll beats him back into the fire light with his giant ladle. "He wouldn't make much more than a mouthful, not when he's skinned and boned!"

Bilbo dodges out of the way as the trolls sweep their hands towards him. "It's too quick!" The small one yells. The ladle crashes into one of the trolls knee caps as he swings and misses as Bilbo ducks between the trolls legs. The flat-faced troll grabs him by the legs as he tries to get to the horse pen and holds Bilbo upside down. He catches a brief glimpse of the girl, trying in vain to help him.

"Are there any more of you little fellows hiding where you shouldn't be?" The flat-faced troll demands.

"No, nope, just me," Bilbo manages to force out past the lump in his throat.

"He's lying," Snot-Nose cackles.

"No I'm not!" Bilbo tries, the blood rushing to his head from being held upside down for so long.

"Hold his toes over the fire," the snot-nosed troll sneers. "Make him squeal!"

Just then Kili steps into the firelight and swings his sword down across the back of the troll's knees, making it yowl in pain. The other two trolls swing around to look at the dwarf with low throaty growls.

"Drop him!" Kili demands, brandishing his sword, the Dwarish iron gleaming in the firelight.

"You wot?" one of the burly trolls demands.

"I said, drop him!" Kili yells back and the troll holding Bilbo growls and throws the panicked hobbit right at Kili. Kili awkwardly catches Bilbo and they land in a heap as the rest of the Company burst into the clearing, swords and axes drawn, bellowing war cries.

As Thorin and Dwalin lead the charge, Fili stops to help Bilbo up. "Get to safety!" He tells the hobbit and then he and his brother dive into the fray.

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The battle with the trolls is almost comedic if it weren't for the fact that they are fighting foes three times their size with brains the size of walnuts.

Fili slashes the arm of one of the dwarves that is holding Ori hostage and spins in the firelight.

Fili catches a glimpse of Bilbo freeing the horses, but one of the trolls spots the hobbit. He vaults a log and runs towards Bilbo. In desperation, Fili realizes he won't get there before the troll will. Suddenly, the scrawny, little farm girl jumps in front of Bilbo, one hand pushing the hobbit behind her and the other wielding a branch. The troll swings and she blocks, the branch splintering from the impact. The bones in her ribs stand out harshly in the firelight as she backs up, standing protectively in front of Bilbo.

"Look out!" Fili cries. The girl shoves Bilbo to the ground but the troll backhands her and the strike lifts her off of her feet. She crashes into a tree and something snaps as her back bends sharply. The troll grabs Bilbo and Fili's face falls. The girl remains motionless at the base of the tree.

As the trolls use Bilbo to demand a surrender from the dwarves, Fili quickly kneels next to the girl. She is barely more than bone and some thin muscle. A bruise covers one half of her face and her torn pant leg on the right side is covered in dried blood. He gently touches the base of her ear where it meets her neck and is relieved to feel a pulse. She stirs weakly and her eyes gaze up at him for no more than a moment before a troll snatches him.

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This is one of the most humiliating moments of his life. Trussed in a sack and unceremoniously piled on the ground next to Oin and his brother, Fili feels like an utter fool. He is perversely happy he is not among the dwarves tied to the roasting spit. Every time he tries to think of a way out of this predicament, his mind goes blank.

A good ten paces away, the woman is trussed to one of the trees in the clearing. It's not as if she can run anyways. Now that they aren't in the middle of a battle with raging trolls, he can see a nasty, puckered laceration that spans her right leg from just below her knee to mid-thigh. He also suspects she has fractured ribs by the way she is listing to one side as if to try and relieve some pain. She's too weak from malnourishment to try and fight back and her head lolls on her shoulder. Her eyes are open though and as the trolls discuss cooking techniques, he sees a shrewd intelligence flash in her gaze. She knows how to watch and bide her time. He admires the fight he sees is still in her.

Almost as if she senses him watching her, her eyes drift over to him. Her gaze is hazy and unfocused but he can't help but be stunned by her eyes. They are this beautiful stormy blue-grey that are unlike anything he's ever seen before. Most Dwarf eyes are brown and grey, the simple colors of the tunnels and earth they live in. Hers are the color of a raging sky, fierce and powerful. Her eyelids flutter slightly and then close as she passes out again, slipping into unconsciousness.

"Kili," Fili whispers to his brother. Kili's feet are in his face, an uncomfortable but not novel situation since they are brothers. Kili wriggles to the side a bit so he can meet Fili's eyes. "The girl," he whispers to his brother and Kili's eyes automatically go to the tree where the woman is slumped over. "I think...I think she's in bad shape, maybe even…dying. We need to do something."

Bilbo hears this exchange and looks over at the woman. He sees out of the corner of his eye that Thorin is watching the woman as well, with that dark considering look he always has. There's something about her, something that almost feels like fate. For some reason, despite the wounded state she is in, Bilbo knows that she is meant to be here. He doesn't know why but he does know that this woman is far more than she seems.

"They should be grilled and sautéed with a sprinkle of sage," the cook troll is saying.

"Is this really necessary?" Nori yells from the spit.

"Forget about the seasoning," the flat-faced troll says. "We ain't got all night. Dawn ain't far away. I don't fancy being turned to stone."

This gives Bilbo pause as the rest of the dwarves struggle in their sacks around him.

He doesn't realize he's stood up until he has, and has hopped up to try and distract the trolls. He has no idea what he is going to do until he hears the words coming out of his own mouth.

"Wait," he says, hopping closer to the spit to gain the troll's attention. "You are making a terrible mistake."

The dwarves protest as the troll's attention swings to Bilbo. "You can't reason with them, they're half wits!" Dori yells.

"Half wits!" Bofur retorts. "What does that make us?!"

"I meant with the, um the seasoning," Bilbo says.

"What about the seasoning?" the cook asks, showing just a glimmer of interest.

Bilbo doesn't really have a plan but he blunders on, doing his best to bluff. "Well have you smelled them?" He asks, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "You're gonna need something stronger that sage before you plate this lot up."

The dwarves respond with an outcry of "traitor" and "idiot" while Dwalin threatens him menacingly from the spit…. Or as menacing as a dwarf can be while in his underclothes, tied to a spit over a fire.

"What do you know about cooking dwarf?" The flat-faced troll demands.

"Shut up!" The cook growls. "Let the flugerler-burgalur-hobbit talk."

Bilbo gives a little absurd laugh and "thank you" to the troll. "Uh, the secret to cooking dwarf… is, um….,"

"Yes?" The troll demands, rapt. "Come one, say it."

"Yes, yes, I'm telling you." Bilbo says. All the dwarves are watching him. "The secret to cooking dwarf is…tooooo…,"


	3. Two

…skin them of course!"

Disgruntled, outraged cries erupt from the dwarves. Bilbo grinds his teeth and tries not to make his eyeroll so obvious to the trolls. The dwarves, still hurling insults at him, can't bloody well see what he's trying to do, can they? Bilbo Baggins has never been so frustrated in his life. Dwalin curses him from the spit with angry pointing while Gloin tries to wriggle towards him. There are shouts of "traitor!" and it's all Bilbo can do stay focused on his task.

"What a load o' rubbish!" one of the trolls protests. "I've eaten plenty with their skins on! Scarf 'em all with boots still on!" Out of the corner of his eye Bilbo sees a grey shadow flit across the beginnings of the sunrise behind the giant boulder at the edge of camp. He tries not to turn his head as the grey robe and staff duck behind a bush and out of sight.

"He's right," Snot-Nose cackles. With one meaty fist he picks Bombur up by his feet. "Nothing wrong with a bit or raw dwarf." He dangles Bombur over his hideous maw, Bombur's long red beard almost hitting the trolls couple remaining teeth. "Nice and crunchy!" he cackles, tongue reaching upwards ready to consume the wriggling dwarf.

Neither has Bilbo ever been so quick with his words. "No, not, that one. He's infected!"

"He wot?!" the troll at the spit asks, eyes crossing in confusion.

Snot-Nose and Bombur both turn to look at Bilbo with wide eyes. The similarity in their expressions would be comical if not for the predicament they are currently in. "Yes, yes, he's got worms... in his… tubes!" Bilbo says, fumbling over words. With a yelp of protest, the Snot-faced troll throws Bombur away who lands with a thud on top of Oin, Kili and Fili, eliciting grunts of pain at the weight.

"In fact they're all infected, infested with parasites," Bilbo adds quickly. "It's a terrible business I won't risk it if I were you., I really wouldn't."

"For goodness sakes, did he say parasites?" Oin demands.

"Parasites?" Kili cries in indignation, "We don't have parasites, you have parasites." The rest of the dwarves join in, hollering at Bilbo while he tries very hard not to curse them and their stupidity. A sigh and a partial eye roll are all he allows himself.

He catches a glimpse of realization in Thorin's eyes. There is a swift kick and Thorin doesn't even look at the rest of the dwarves lying on the ground. It goes quiet for a moment while they all look at each other.

Oin and Kili look at Thorin, then at Bilbo.

Almost hesitantly Oin says, "I've got parasites as big as my arm."

"Mine are the biggest parasites you've ever seen! I've got huge parasites!" Kili adds and suddenly all the dwarves are hollering about their parasitic infestations. Ori and Dori on the spit holler, "We're riddles, yes riddled," as the rest join in. Finally, Bilbo thinks to himself.

"What would have us do then?" The flat-faced troll asks Bilbo, stalking over to him. "Let 'em all go?"

"Well…," Bilbo trails off.

"You think, I don' know what you're up to?" the troll yells at Bilbo, one big finger jabbing into the small hobbit's chest. "This ferret 'ere is takin' us for fools!"

"Ferret?" Bilbo splutters indignantly.

"Fools?" the cook asks.

"THE DAWN WILL TAKE YOU ALL!" Gandalf appears up on top of the boulder, silhouetted in the pre-dawn light.

The dwarves and Bilbo look up with hopeful faces.

"Who's that?" Flat-face asks.

"No idea," says the cook troll.

"Can we eat him too?" asks Snot-nose.

Gandalf raises his staff over his head and with a mighty crack brings it down on the boulder.

The rock splits in half, sunlight streaming into the clearing. The trolls shriek and bellow in agony, trying desperately to cover their eyes as the sunlight casts its light across them. There are creaks and groans as before the astonished eyes of thirteen dwarves, one wounded woman and a hobbit, three gigantic mountain trolls turn to stone.

Bilbo blinks a couple of times to clear is eyes and make sure what he's sees is real. He looks at the sun, then the trolls, a comically confused expression on his face.

Whoops and hollers of relief and triumph explode from the dwarves. Bofur's crazy chuckle comes from the spit and even Thorin cracks a relieved smile.

"Oh get your foot outta my back," Dwalin says grumpily from the spit.

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With the immediate danger past, the dwarves set about freeing themselves from the sacks and the roasting spit. Gandalf unties the knot at Bilbo's neck first and then the hobbit frees the dwarves on the ground around him as Gandalf undoes the ropes on the spit. Within little time, the dwarves are free and exchanging relieved congratulations and muttering about sore backs.

When Bilbo helps him free, Fili turns immediately to head towards the woman bound to the tree. Seeing his nephew set off with such purpose, Thorin studies the girl carefully as Fili approaches her. Gandalf comes to stand by his side and they exchange considering glances as Fili reaches her. She looks half-dead and harmless but something about her is strange and while the company may be eager to discover her identity, Gandalf and Thorin are much more cautious.

When Fili unties the woman from the tree, she sinks bonelessly to the ground and he barely catches her. She feebly tries to stand but her legs can barely hold her weight and it takes many tries before Fili is able to help her prop herself up against the tree, one leg bent to alleviate the pain from the laceration on her leg. Her eyes are feverish and glassy and she seems to be trying to say something but her lips are parched and chapped and her throat dry.

"Bilbo!" Fili calls to the hobbit. Bilbo looks up over at him with an inquisitive gaze. Fili beckons him over. "Hand me your water skin, would you?" Fili requests and Bilbo hurriedly hands it over when he sees the girl leaning heavily on the oak. Fili holds the mouth of the skin to her lips and she chokes a bit at first but then her throat starts working again and she manages to swallow a mouthful of water before coughing forcefully. Alarmed, Bilbo helps support her as her body curls into itself.

"Is she sick?" Bilbo asks Fili worriedly. Fili shakes his head as Kili comes over to observe them.

"No, she just hasn't had any water in too long. Her body can only take a little at a time." He gently rests a hand at the nape of her neck to help steady the woman as she manages a second sip, and then a third, her throat starting to relax and her stomach finally accepting the water. She is oblivious to them all, only worried with getting enough water to slake her thirst.

When she finally is able to breathe normally and some of the haziness has cleared from her eyes, the woman looks at the dwarves and hobbit surrounding her, all eyes now on her ragged appearance and injuries. Her words are barely audible but Fili can hear her croak, "Thank you."

Kili is the one who voices the question that's on all their minds. "Who are you?"

Her heavy eyes swing towards him and she opens her lips slightly but then stumbles forward and Fili catches her and gently lowers her to the ground. "Perhaps later would be a better time," he says quietly and sees gratitude in her eyes before they flutter closed and she passes out in his arms. Fili lays her back against the tree.

"In all my years, this is a new surprise even for me," Gandalf says and Fili, Kili and Bilbo turn to see that Gandalf and Thorin have come up behind them and are regarding the girl. Gandalf looks curious but Thorin looks slightly hostile. "I wonder who this strange young woman is?"

"What was she doing in a troll camp?" Thorin demands. "That's the more important question."

Gandalf looks at him with a faint smile. "I very much doubt she was in league with them." Thorin doesn't reply, even in jest, just turns away from the wounded woman to consult with Dwalin. "So serious," Gandalf murmurs to himself although Bilbo overhears. He turns to look at the woman.

"She's injured," Fili says and Gandalf gives a small "ah" and kneels at her side. He gently takes her face in his large, rough hands and tilts it side to side, studying her likeness. She looks haggard and aged but she is young underneath the dirt and exhaustion and her skin is tanned from sun-exposure. Her lip is split in various places and there is dried, crusted blood along her hairline but he can see no evidence of a head injury. He softly feels along her ribs for wounds and clucks his tongue disapprovingly as his hands find bruising and misaligned ribs.

"Who could she be?" Bilbo wonders aloud as Gandalf gently probes the wound on her leg. She stirs briefly in pain at the pressure but doesn't wake.

"Well, whoever, she may be, she has several broken ribs on her left side and a nasty laceration deep on her thigh," Gandalf says. "She will need medical attention, beyond my skill and most likely beyond even Oin's. We will need to bring her with us until we can find a town or herbalist nearby. The ribs can be set but I fear the thigh might be infected and that is something we will need herbs to treat."

"Kili, find Oin," Fili says to his brother. "He may be able to help at least a little." As Kili nods and goes in search of Oin, Gandalf can't help but notice Fili's obvious concern for this woman and gives voice to it.

He is surprised to see the dwarf prince flush slightly but it is Bilbo who speaks up. "She saved my life, Gandalf. We should be concerned for her well-being as well. Without her, those trolls would have done worse to me." Fili gives Bilbo a grateful smile and the wizard nods sagely.

"Still, it is very strange to find a woman alone in the wilderness, especially one who can fend for herself in battle," Gandalf murmurs. "And if I am correct, you also saved her life, Master Baggins." Bilbo flushes slightly at the admiration. He turns to look back at the woman. "A most strange woman indeed."

She stirs slightly, brows furrowing in pain and her eyes open. Those storm grey irises lock onto Fili, the gaze fierce and in that moment Fili realizes that something about this woman is going to change his life. He may not believe in fate or gods but something is starting in this moment, all because of her.

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"Fili!"

Although Fili does not want to leave the woman's side, he reluctantly responds to his uncle's call. Thorin is standing at the edge of the clearing, surveying the dwarves as they finish pulling themselves back together.

"Yes, uncle?" Fili inquires.

"What do you make of it?" Thorin asks, eyes roaming under dark brows towards the wizard, woman and hobbit next to the tree. Fili follows his gaze and sees that Bilbo is supporting the woman as she stirs. She's weak, the thin bones of her arms standing out like old tree branches from her frayed sleeves.

"She's…," Fili takes time to think of the right word. "She's… mysterious." He settles on the word even though it isn't quite right. "Gandalf wasn't sure what to make of a lone woman in the wilderness, let alone a woman who knows how to fight. That's rare."

"Agreed," Thorin murmurs. "It begs the question what she was doing out here."

"I doubt she's a threat to us, uncle," Fili says quietly. "As much as I know we shouldn't judge that until she's stronger, I highly doubt that she is a spy. No spy worth their trade would allow themselves to be captured by trolls, even as part of an elaborate ruse to gain our trust."

"You have a point there," Thorin says with a small chuckle. "Good assessment. You're learning well, far faster than that rash brother of yours," he says with a smile and nod in Kili's direction. Fili's face warms slightly at the praise.

"Thank you," he murmurs. They watch the dwarves for a moment as Gandalf peels away from the woman to join them. He wanders between the petrified trolls, rapping one on the head with his staff, give a small "ah" of satisfaction as he makes his way to Thorin's side.

"Where did you go to if I may ask?" Thorin asks in his gravelly voice.

"To look ahead," Gandalf replies simply and good-naturedly.

"And what brought you back?" Thorin asks.

"Looking behind," Gandalf says with a touch of amusement. Even Thorin allows himself a small smile at that remark.

"Nasty business. Still all in one piece though," Gandalf says, brushing the whole troll incident off far too lightly for Thorin's taste.

"No thanks to your burglar," he says reproachfully, tilting his head to regard the wizard.

"He had the knowledge to pray for time," Gandalf says just as reproachfully. "none of the rest of you thought of that." Thorin sighs and gives a faint nod, the only acknowledgment he'll give the old man for the moment.

"They must have come down from the Ettenmoor, " Gandalf muses.

"Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?" Thorin ponders.

"Oh, not for an age," Gandalf replies, his brow turning dark as the subsequent thought enter his mind, shaking his head slightly. "Not since a darker power ruled these lands." The wizard and the dwarf king exchange a dark look and then the moment passes.

"They could not have moved in daylight," Gandalf remarks, thinking aloud.

"There must be a cave nearby," Thorin says, already turning to scan the area. He sets off, now having a goal. As Fili moves to follow him, Gandalf catches the younger dwarf's arm. "Keep an eye out for the woman, Fili," Gandalf charges him quietly. "Of all of us, she trusts you face most next to Bilbo's. Something about her is different."

"Do you think she's dangerous?" Fili asks, concern coloring his voice as he looks across the clearing at her.

"For the moment, no," Gandalf says with a chuckle. "But her trustworthiness is unknown yet and I would rather we be careful not to reveal too much. Better not to involve her in our affairs unless dire circumstances necessitate otherwise."

Fili nods. "I will watch her."

"Good," Gandalf replies.

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Bilbo gently supports the woman as she stirs. Her eyes take a moment to focus and then she looks at him, a curious kind of consideration on her face. Her lips move and she winces as they split again, so dry for so long in captivity. "You are…. the small one who… who freed me?" Her words come out slowly, between heavy breaths. Gandalf has warned him her broken ribs would cause her pain. Her words however make him blush self-consciously.

"It was nothing really," he says, hiding his face. Something about this woman makes him nervous. No not nervous; goodness Bilbo Baggins is unnerved by her because he thinks she's beautiful and he's never had a beautiful, brave woman speak to him like he's a hero before. He busies himself rebinding her leg.

Her fingers on his arm stop his ministrations. They are small, thinner than his but scared from work. He looks up at her and is startled by the look in her grey eyes. "You saved my life. I owe you a great debt." Her voice clears the more she speaks and her eyes are regarding him closely. "Who are you?" she asks gently.

"I'm a hobbit," Bilbo says, blurting the first thing that comes to mind. She cocks her head inquiringly at him. "Bilbo Baggins at your service," he says, feeling oddly formal as he does. She shifts slightly to move weight from her ribs and he is shocked out of his daze. Goodness she is mesmerizing in a way no one he has ever met before is. He helps her sit higher to relieve pain from her side.

She gasps a bit before settling back against the tree trunk. "Well,… Mister Baggins. You have my gratitude and ….my service for as long as you require it." Shocked by her pledge of service, he stutters a bit.

"That's, that's not necessary," he babbles. "I don't think I'm one to need protecting. I'm hardly in danger." His words run together as he chatters. "Now Thorin, and his company, they may, but not me. I'm just a burglar-er-hobbit."

She regards him and something like a faint smile creases her face. It's like seeing a ray of sunshine through the clouds. "Oh, I see," she says softly, a touch of amusement in her voice. Bilbo can't help himself, he smiles back at her and gently touches her arm in return.

With a sudden jerk, her body arches away from the tree and she gasps. Her eyes see past him even while looking right at him. She cries out in pain, her fingers tightening painfully into his arm, her mouth open in a wordless shriek of pain. Her eyes expand and she shudders hard. Unsure what to do, Bilbo looks over his shoulder to call for Gandalf but the wizard is already striding towards them, Fili close on his heels.

As suddenly as it started, the shaking recedes and the girl falls back, Bilbo just barely catching her head before it hits the tree. Her eyes slam shut and she blacks out before Bilbo catches her. "What happened?" Gandalf demands as he kneels at the woman's side.

"I don't know," Bilbo stutters, just as shocked as Fili. "One moment we were talking, I touched her arm and then she went sightless."

"Sightless?" Gandalf says sharply. Bilbo looks at him in confusion.

"It was the first word I could think of to describe it. Her eyes weren't seeing anything in front of her. It was like she was seeing something else," Bilbo says. Gandalf looks at him for a moment in consideration before turning back to the woman.

He gently places a hand on her forehead. "What are you, my dear?" he murmurs to the farm girl.


	4. Three

The stench is what finally allows them to find the troll hoard.

It lies underneath a slope of forest floor dotted with large weathered boulders, moss hanging from the ceiling and the damp smell of decay permeating the air near it. Dead leaves crinkle on the floor as Gandalf and Thorin lead a small group of dwarves deep into the troll hoard.

"What's that stench?" Nori asks as they move from the light of the cave entrance.

"It's a troll hoard," Gandalf says, as if that explains it all. Which it does. "Be careful what you touch," he warns. Coughs and gagging sounds echo from the dwarves as they descend further.

The floor of the cave is littered with all sorts of flotsam and debris. The skeleton of a chandelier and an old rotting pumpkin sit side by side. Bofur's eyes alight on a small treasure chest sitting against a wall which leads him to the small pile of gold at its base. He nudges it with his foot. "Seems such a shame to leave it lying around," he says, "Anyone could take it."

"Agreed," Gloin says, a calculating look in his eye. "Nori! Get a shovel!" he commands.

Ahead, Gandalf paws through old wicker baskets with his staff. Under light of a torch, Thorin notice a rack of cobweb covered knifes. With precision and a practiced eye for weapons, he draws a small knife from the weapons cache and narrows his eyes, not recognizing the make. Putting it back, the wide, slender hilt of a long broadsword catches his eye and he pulls it from the rondel holding it. Gandalf approaches as he pulls a curved sword from the rondel as well.

"These swords were not made by any troll," he says in wonder, passing the longer sword to Gandalf for examination.

"Nor were they made by any smith among men," Gandalf says, laying his staff against his shoulder and looking critically at the cobweb adorned hilt. Slowly he slides the blade from the sheath as Thorin examines the curved sword, blowing stray dust away as he does.

"These were forged in Gondolin," Gandalf says in wonder, looking up at Thorin, who abruptly stops weighing the heft of the sword. "By the high elves of the first age." Thorin pulls his hand from the hilt he was about to grasp. "You could not ask for a finer blade," Gandalf says sharply to him.

Thorin stops in the act of putting the sword back and considers it for a moment. Then under Dwalin's watchful eye he unsheathes it in one deft movement, the blade glittering in the torchlight, fine scrawl in Elvish with vine flourishes moving on the sword.

Gandalf re-sheathes his blade with a satisfied murmur, spider webs hanging off it. They head back towards the entrance to the cave. Gloin, Bofur and Nori are busy burying a chest of golden cups, coins and jewels. Gloin pats the top of the chest fondly and looks up at Dwalin's scowling face. "We're making a long-term deposit," he says pragmatically. Dwalin rolls his eyes in disdain.

"Let's get out of this foul place," Thorin says and Dwalin follows him, close on his heels, eager to be rid of the stench of troll. "Come on let's go. Bofur, Gloin, Nori!"

Gandalf takes one last considering look around the cave, moving his torch across the high shadows of the cave ceiling. As he turns to leave the end of his staff clanks on an object buried beneath the leaf litter. Curious, he clears the leaves with his staff to reveal a small bladed sword shaped with curves instead of straight as his new sword is. The hilt wrapping is covered with a motif of leaves on fine leather.

Probing further, he unmasks a paired set of sickle-like blades as well, adorned with a pattern of stars on the fine silver blades. The hilts are small, wrapped in a bronzed color of leather and ending in straps for the user wrists. A shiver of memory runs through him as he thinks back to the last person he saw use weapons such as these and after a moment of consideration, he picks up both the sets of weapons before heading back out into the sunshine and clear air.

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As Gandalf and Thorin disappear into the cave, Fili and Kili very gently lay the woman down on a bed of moss away from the cave's entrance where the stink of rot isn't quite as overwhelming. They'd carried her from the troll camp between the two of them, her head rolling limply between them. She didn't stir again on the journey here but as they lay her down, her breathing pattern changes and she slowly rises to awareness.

Bilbo and Fili stay by her side as she comes to, a hand immediately going to her head, her eyes drawn tight around the corners in pain. Without a word, Fili gently offers her a water skin and she takes it with a nod of thanks, her expression wary. "We're not going to hurt you," Fili says quietly, trying to make his eyes and his words as sincere as possible. She doesn't relax an inch so it is entirely possible that he needs to work on that skill.

They regard each other in silence, he burning with desire to ask her who she is and what she is doing her and she with cautious curiosity.

Kili breaks the moment by unsheathing a knife from his brother's boot. He holds it hilt first towards the woman and she flinches at first, afraid he's threatening her, then looks at it with consideration. She turns her gaze to Fili, and he is surprised when she asks permissions. "May I?"

He nods slowly and she takes the blade with a nod of thanks. "Best to be prepared in the wild," Kili says with a shrug at Bilbo's questioning look. "You know how to use that, lass?"

She nods, adjusting her grip, feeling the weight of it in her hand. She holds it in a backwards grip, blade pointing up her forearm, hilt against her wrist. Fili notes the grip with interest. Most men don't hold the blade that way. Strange for a farm girl to know how to hold a blade that way.

"Bilbo!" Gandalf calls from the mouth of the cave. The hobbit heads towards the wizard reluctantly, wanting to stay with the woman.

Kili gently kneels at her side and pulls a small black of dried cheese from his pack. He holds it out to her under the watchful eyes of his brother. "You must be hungry," he says. He feels as if he is approaching a trapped or wounded animal. Her eyes are skittish and wary, always scanning around them, always second guessing the nature of their company. Whatever she has gone through it has made her untrusting and quiet.

Slowly, she reaches out her hand and meets him halfway, her small fingers brushing his. "Thank you." Her voice is quiet, no more than a whisper, husky with disuse.

"You're very welcome," Kili says, staying at her level, keeping his distance so not as to cause her discomfort. "Thank you for saving Bilbo's life in the clearing. I believe you saved my brother's as well." He nods over his shoulder at Fili and is surprised to notice a flush has crept up his brother's collar. He smiles shrewdly at Fili, who shifts under his scrutiny.

The girl is blushing as well, head down, not sure how to accept this praise. "I could not have saved him if your company had not saved me," she says, the most words he has heard from her yet. "I owe your people a great debt."

Kili makes to respond but at that moment there comes a thrashing sound from the surrounding woods and he is up, a hand already on his bow. Fili moves to stand in front of her and he notices how her hand tightens on the small knife in her hand. "What is it?" she asks him, struggling to her feet.

He puts a steadying hand under her arms. "I don't know," he says. "Something is coming."

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When Gandalf exits the cave, he calls Bilbo over. The hobbit regretfully leaves the woman's side to see what the wizard requires.

"Here, this is about your size," Gandalf says, measuring the hobbit against the small blade with his eyes as he holds out the weapon. Bilbo looks at him with a furrowed brow.

"Oh-," Bilbo says quietly and takes the sword hesitantly looking from it to the wizard. Gandalf watches him for a moment as the hobbit considers. "I can't take this," Bilbo says, looking up at him.

"The blade is of Elvish make," Gandalf says. "That means it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are nearby," he explains with a faint nod completely ignoring Bilbo's refusal.

Bilbo looks back at the company to make sure no one is listening. "I have never used a sword in my life," he confides to Gandalf in a lowered voice, plaintively trying to get the wizard to reconsider.

"And I hope you never have to," Gandalf says quietly in his low voice. Bilbo looks up at him. "But if you do remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one."

The wizard looks into Bilbo's bewildered eyes for a moment more. Bilbo looks at the blade. There is crack of twigs as the dwarves shift around anxiously. "Something's coming!" Thorin's deep voice warns. Gandalf looks up sharply and leaves Bilbo to go see what the commotion is telling to dwarves to arm themselves.

"Gandalf-," Bilbo tries to say, but Gandalf is telling the dwarves to stay together. He turns back to the blade in his hands, slowly pulling it from the sheathe and considering the short blade as the dwarves run past him to pull together a defensive formation.

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Tree branches crack and tear and break in the forest as something speeds their way very rapidly. Bilbo stays close to the young woman with his new, small sword. Fili is supporting her and the small knife in her hand catches his attention. Her eyes are just as watchful as the dwarf brothers are and she clearly knows how to use the weapon in her hand.

"Arm yourselves!" Gandalf calls as Bilbo shakes his gaze from the new sword he is holding.

"Stay together!" Thorin bellows as the creature or person disturbing the forest draws nearer.

With an explosion of leaves and broken branches, a great host of rabbits burst into the clearing, followed by one of the most peculiar men Bilbo has ever seen, riding a sleigh that he only then notices is being pulled by the rabbits. "Thieves! Fire! Murder!" the strange fellow bellows but the whole company is so bepuzzled by his appearance that they continue to stand at the ready, unsure what to do.

Gandalf breaks the silence. "Radagast!" he says in greeting. "Radagast the Brown!" He walks up to the strange little wizard, whose staff is a gnarled concoction of tree branches and whose beard could be a squirrel's nest. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I was looking for your Gandalf," the little wizard speaks quickly. "Something's wrong, something's very wrong!"

"Yes?" Gandalf asks skeptically.

Radagast goes to speak, stops, finger still in the air in thought, goes to speak again and then stops himself again. "Just give me a minute, um…," Bilbo can almost feel his eyes crossing at the sight of this peculiar and quirky man. "Oh! I had a thought and now I've lost it, it was right on the tip of my tongue!"

Radagast's eyes cross briefly as he thinks hard. "Oh! It's not a thought at all!" he says. "It's a silly old, stick insect!" he proclaims, as Gandalf gently pulls said stick insect from his tongue. Radagast takes it into his hand and studies it closely. Bilbo looks around to see similar expressions of befuddlement on his companions. Oin can't even hear enough of the conversation to be confused and Thorin looks put-upon by this strange man.

The dwarves slowly lower their weapons when they realize that Gandalf knows this wizard. There are still big expressions of confusion of many of their faces. As Gandalf moves off to the side to converse with Radagast, Thorin stows his weapons and the company follows suit. Bilbo moves to the side slightly to attempt to overhear the wizards' conversation. Fili is watching them, his blade still out but then the woman shifts under his arm in pain and his attention goes back to her.

Her face is extremely pallid, unearthly white, making her long lashes and dark eyebrows stand out against her face. "You should rest," Fili tells her gently. She shakes her head slightly.

"I gain no strength if I let others carry me," she says quietly. She straightens up and takes a few halting steps to get her feet steady underneath herself. "I will need my legs soon."

Something about the way she says that last phrase has Fili unsettled. She does not say it as if she will need her strength to recover and move on with her life. She says it as though she knows she will have to walk or run very soon and that she knows it with a certainty that cannot be possible. He keeps an eye on her as she slowly begins to pace back and forth, building up her strength.

Kili comes to stand next to him. "You look ill at ease, Fee," he says, bumping his shoulder against his older brother's. "You also, appear to be enchanted."

Fili looks up sharply at Kili. "What do you mean by that?" he demands.

"Oh, nothing," Kili says innocently. "But you don't blush for anyone, brother." He dodges as Fili attempts to cuff him on the ear. Kili laughs and backs away, "Just know that I was the first to notice it," he grins. Fili swallows drily, shaking his head as his brother starts talking to Dwalin. His gaze moves up to the woman who has stopped to breath heavily for a moment, her hand on a tree branch for balance.

As if sensing his gaze, she looks up, right at him and he has to admit that he might be bewitched.

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"The Green Wood is sick Gandalf," Radagast confides to the grey wizard as the taller man slowly puffs on his pipe consideringly. "A darkness has fallen over it. Nothing grows anymore. At least nothing good. The air is foul with decay."

Gandalf wanders slightly downhill and is facing away from the company and Radagast when the smaller wizard says, "But worst are the webs."

"Webs?" Gandalf says in quiet surprise. "What do you mean webs?"

"Spiders, Gandalf," Radagast says. "Giant ones. Some sort of spawn of Ungoliant or I'm not a wizard. I followed their trail. They came from…. Dol Guldur."

The small pause has it's intended effect. "Dol Guldur?" Gandalf questions. "But the old fortress is abandoned."

Radagast shakes his head slightly. "No, Gandalf. It's not."

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As Gandalf and Radagast finish their conversation, Fili sees Radagast hand a slime parcel to Gandalf. The look that passes between them is dark but his attention is borne away from it by two events that happen in quick succession.

First, the woman catches sight of the object being held by Gandalf and her eyes widen. What was it Bilbo called that look? She goes sightless, her eyes not here. Her breathing comes faster and a terrible kind of pain creases the corners of her eyes. She brings a hand to her ear as if to cover it from some ghostly shriek she hears in the distance. He takes a step towards her, wondering again at what could be happening when the second thing occurs.

A howl rents the air around the company.

"Was that a wolf?" Bilbo asks nervously. There are uneasy noises from the company who stir from the brief rest the wizards' conversation gave them.

"Wolf? No, that was not a wolf," Bofur says, a terrified expression creeping up his face. There is a growl at the top of the rise and the dwarves turn just in time to see a ferocious, snarling Warg ready to pounce.

The beast roars and charges the dwarves. Oin and Gloin dive out of its way, Thorin slashing the Warg across it's grotesque face and Dwalin finishing it off with a sweep of his broad-axe into its thick neck. Fili pushes the woman behind him, his back pressed against her chest, her back against the tree.

A second Warg leaps into the air, straight at Thorin, but Kili sends an arrow into its eye and Thorin finishes the creature with a firm blow. Fili stands at the ready and he can feel the wiry in the woman's forearm as he has unconsciously grabbed onto her wrist.

"Warg-scouts!" Thorin hollers. "Which means an orc pack is not far behind!"

"Orc pack?" Bilbo asks, eyes wide with shock.

"Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?" Gandalf demands, his tone menacing.

"No one," Thorin grinds out.

"WHO DID YOU TELL?" Gandalf bellows again.

"No one, I swear," Thorin answers angrily. "What in Durin's name is going on?" Thorin demands, voice deep and angry.

"You are being hunted," Gandalf says. Bilbo's shoulders fall and so does his face as he realizes the severity of the situation he now finds himself in.

"We have to get out of here," Dwalin growls, his voice grave.

"We can't!" comes Ori's panicked voice. "We have no ponies, they bolted!" Bilbo shakes his head in distress.

There is a howl through the trees that makes the hair rise on the back of Fili's neck.

"We need to move, and now!" Dwalin barks.

"Gandalf, can the brown wizard take the girl to safety?" Thorin demands. "She won't stand a chance if Warg scouts are running us down." Gandalf nods his agreement and turns to the girl but stops when he really takes a look at her.

She is standing upright, her eyes focused on Thorin but with the sightless look Bilbo described before they found the troll hoard. Her eyes are wide and flinty, seeing something they cannot and it confirms Gandalf's suspicions.

So quietly they almost can't hear her, the woman surfaces from wherever she had been and says, "No. You will need me to reach the mountain."

The silence that follows is sharp.

"What, did you say?" Thorin asks, enunciating every word clearly, his voice filled with a disbelieving rage. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?" he bellows again.

Before anyone can stop him, he has strode over to the woman, grabbed her by the throat and pinned her against a moss-covered tree. She gasps as her ribs shift but Thorin is unrelenting. "How do you know this?" Thorin snarls at her. Bilbo and the rest of the company look at her in disbelief, wanting to spare her further injury but also too curious to know the answer to intervene.

Bilbo almost sighs in relief when Gandalf steps in. "Thorin, unhand her," the wizard says, a hint of power simmering in his voice. The girl gasps a bit as Thorin's hold tightens as he looks questioningly at Gandalf. "I have my theories about her but if these were scouts the pack is not far behind. Now is not the time. She won't run from us, she's smart enough not to strike out on her own injured and with Warg riders in the area. We take her with us and question her later."

Thorin narrows his eyes at the wizard but he is no fool. He drops the girl and she crumples at his feet, wheezing for air, bruises already forming on her neck.

Thorin makes his decision quickly. "Fili, Kili," he barks. "Keep an eye on the girl. We need to move!"

"I'll draw them off," Radagast says.

"These are Gundaband Wargs," Gandalf says in warning, his doubts clear on his face. "They will out run you!"

"These are Rhosgobel rabbits!" Radagast declares with a glint in his eye. There is something sly in the brown wizard's eye that convince Gandalf. "I'd like to see them try."


	5. Four

A chorusing of howls, the baying of night hunters, signals the start of the chase.

There is an explosion of breaking tree branches as Radagast bursts from the foliage, hollering "Come and get me!" The wargs and riders immediately give chase, the wolfish creatures loping after the diminutive wizard with long strides.

As Radagast crests the rise in terrain, wargs in close pursuit, Gandalf pulls the dwarves together, grabbing gear and rounding each other up, slinging packs onto shoulders, checking their numbers to make sure they have all fourteen of their company. Well, actually it's fifteen now, Gandalf muses quietly.

The woman rushes over to the dead warg, sticks her fingers deep into the head wound Dwalin dealt the creature and smears the dark blood across the thigh of her pants before any of the dwarves can react. She looks up at the bewildered faces and chooses to meet Thorin's eyes. "To disguise the smell of my wound," she says, her words quiet but fierce. He gives a slight nod of grudging respect, having not thought of that himself.

Kili grabs the girl's forearm as they run out of the cover of the trees, then looks at her in shock. His hand completely encircles her arm, she is so starved. She stumbles a bit but manages to keep up with the dwarves as they leave the safety of the trees behind. She heavily favors one leg but struggles onward, terror spurring them all forward. "Come on!" Gandalf yells. Fili, next to his brother as always, notices grimly that her leg is bleeding afresh, her blood mingling with the warg blood she smothered it with. His brows knit with concern.

Fili and Kili flank her as they run across the plains. The bloodcurdling warg howls make the fine hairs at the nape of their necks stand on end. The rock formations jutting from the land like buried giant fingers give them some measure of protection as they speed away from the rock walls of the Arnor low-lands and merge into the vast plains west of the Misty Mountains.

Radagast is leading the warg riders on a merry chase as the company tries to stick to the shelter of the rocks and sparse tree cover on the mostly barren plains. They are now crossing the broad expanse of the Arnor downs and the landscape offers precious little coverage. The small rolling hills break up the Orcs' line of sight as long as the dwarves stay relatively close together and stay within the small valleys between them.

Radagast doubles back and Thorin in the lead has to stop short, wargs passing in front of them, not more than a half league away. "Stay together!" Gandalf warns, keeping his voice low.

"Move!" Thorin barks to the dwarves, as they swing wide to reverse direction back into the rocky spires.

Thorin charges to the front, hoping the wargs won't double back again but they do as Radagast changes direction again. Ori stumbles ahead of Thorin as he pulls up short again and Thorin grabs the back of his shirt. "Ori, no! Get back!" They stay close, trying not to break cover.

Gandalf has taken the lead but where he intends to find refuge, they know not. Fili hears Thorin ask Gandalf "Where are you leading us?" as he passes Thorin, bringing up the rear of the company but the wizard's only answer is a worried grimace and to keep moving together. Thorin's brow darkens, knowing he has no choice but to trust Gandalf.

They run as they have never run before, blisters and soreness forgotten. For a moment, the woman stumbles and Fili catches her, helping her upright again. Her breathing is ragged and uneven, eyes glossy with pain but she struggles up with his help. Gently, she taps his arm where the matching knife Kili gave her earlier is hidden. She doesn't have to say anything but he can read the thought in her eyes. _Just in case_. He unsheathes the matching knife and she grips it firmly in her small hand.

Radagast cackles with laughter at the chase, the wargs passing too close to them. Bilbo stays close to Gandalf, knowing that the wizard is their best bet of safety right now. But despite his terror, he also keeps a close eye on the girl who is tight-lipped with pain, although she doesn't mutter a sound of protest.

The company takes refuge under a small overhang of rock sliding off of a larger boulder embedded in the grassy plains. A warg and its rider crest the formation they are hiding under and everyone freezes, straining to stay silent. The woman presses her hand hard into her leg, pushing hard against the open wound, trying to staunch the bleeding and minimize the scent of it. The orc prowls above them, the warg slobbering on the rocks and the orc swiveling its grotesque head this way and that, its ugly, twisted sword held tightly in a swollen-fingered grasp. Its nose looks as if it has been smashed flat to its face in a previous fight and its blocky teeth show far too wide in a split lipped grimace.

Thorin looks at Kili meaningfully and Bilbo gulps as Thorin nods to Kili's bow and cocks his head up at the warg. Kili nods and Fili sees him mentally prepared himself before stepping out of cover and taking aim. The first arrow slams home into the wargs foreleg. The hideous orc goes for his horn but the arrow pierces it and the warg and orc topple down towards them, still very much alive and shrieking.

The orc leaps towards them and Bifur and Thorin team up to dispatch the orc as Dwalin sinks his broad-axe deep into the warg's throat. The growling and hollering that ensue are loud and echo against the rocks around them. There is a tense minute of silence as the company strains to hear if they have been heard. There is a grunting sound followed by the guttural language of Black Speech and the sound of a warg hunting howl that draws nearer with each passing second.

"Move! Run!" Gandalf yells, all attempts at stealth forgotten now. The orc pack is closing fast as they sprint away. When Bilbo stumbles, the woman catches him under the arm and keeps him going although it strains her leg to do so. Fili and Kili stay close to her, Kili with his bow still out, an arrow in one fist, the other reaching towards her to help her forward if she falls.

The wargs circle wide on the plains, and Thorin can see with clarity that they are moving to block the company off. "There they are!" Gloin yells in warning.

"This way, quickly!" Gandalf yells.

Despite their best efforts, soon there is nowhere to go, the wargs having pincered them from the south. The dwarves form a loose circle, backs to each other. Weapons are drawn, Bilbo holding onto his own sword with sweaty palms near Dori and the woman. The pines are too sparse here to offer shelter and the lay of the land has flattened, the wargs gaining distance faster now that they are unencumbered by hills and a plucky brown wizard.

Thorin pulls up short as the leader crests the rise in front of him, giving a cruse in dwarvish. "There's more coming!" Kili yells. Thorin surveys the area in a quick sweep.

"Kili! Shoot them!" he orders, barring his new sword, the curved blade glinting in the sunlight.

Gandalf scans the area in desperation, hoping they are close to safety. Only Nori briefly notices the wizard fixate on a rock outcropping with steely determination before the dwarf is occupied with pulling Ori back.

"We're surrounded!" Fili hollers, drawing both of his broadswords. The woman is to his right, daggers fisted tightly, one held forward, the other in a reverse grip, head on the swivel, assessing the battlefield with a keen gaze that belies experience in warfare. Kili's first arrow dispatches an orc clean through the forehead. Ori uses his slingshot to bean a warg with a rock but the snarling creature barely flinches as the orc pack leader closes in, a sneer on his face.

"Where's Gandalf?!" Dori calls in a worried tone.

"He's abandoned us!" Dwalin yells bitterly as they are forced to take a collective step backwards, the wargs tightening the noose slowly around them. Fili exchanges a worried glance with Kili as Thorin scowls. His arrows are dwindling and he is fixated on the wargs, not watching his surroundings as much as he should be.

"Hold your ground!" Thorin hollers. Fili sees the girl cast a worried glance in Bilbo's direction. The little hobbit looks terrified, his grip shaky on his new sword. The girl moves closer in a protective gesture and gives the hobbit a reassuring nod. A rider gets cocky and charges toward Dori, who swings upwards and takes out the warg. Fili dispatched the orc rider before it can regain its footing. Kili lets loose an arrow next to him that strikes another orc square between the eyes.

"This way, you fools!" Gandalf yells.

Thorin's head whips around to see the wizard standing in front of an entrance to a rock alcove.

"Quick, all of you!" Thorin yells, dispensing with the need to ask questions and focusing on the task of getting the company to safety. Bofur slides in first, closely followed by Bilbo. Below he can hear Gandalf counting as the company members join him, always making sure they have everyone. "Come on, move!"

Thorin stands on the rock hiding the entrance, holding the line as the dwarves run for safety. "Go, Go, GO!" he yells. A riderless warg leaps towards him but he swings the sword and severs half of its jaw. Fili and the girl reach him but neither jump to safety, looking back to make sure the rest are safe. An arrow flies from Kili's bow, the young dwarf still focused on the fight.

"Kili, run!" Thorin bellows.

The young dwarf turns and runs towards him but Thorin can see the warg bearing down on his nephew. He curses his lack of bow and runs towards Kili, afraid he won't get there in time to aid him. There is a blur of motion as someone speeds by him and launches themselves at the warg just as Thorin tackles Kili, bringing him to the ground and out of harm's way.

Since he had expected to be trampled by a warg, Thorin is surprised when they stop rolling that they are unscathed aside from small scrapes from rolling across the boulders and grassy field. He turns just in time to see the farm girl, with Fili's two long daggers in hand, thrust her weapons deep into the warg's head as she comes down from jumping off a boulder. Daggers still in the collapsing creature's head, she holds tightly to the handles and swings both of her booted feet around, whipping her body in a clean arc, both heels cracking into the orc's armor, unseating the unsightly creature. As the dead warg's body skips to a stop, she wrenches the blades free, vaults off the warg and buries both blades deep into the orc's chest, silencing it's squeals permanently.

Then she is up and running with a heavy limp towards them. Thorin helps Kili to his feet and shoves him towards the entrance, waiting to move until the girl has caught up to him. They run for the entrance to the passageway, the girl gritting her teeth in pain. There is blood running in great gushing pulses down her leg but they don't slow because they cannot. Kili jumps down into the rock passage ahead of them, boots skidding on the pebbled surface, Fili waiting on the fringe for them. "Go!" Thorin hollers and reluctantly Fili follows his brother to safety.

The girls stumbles and Thorin turns to help her, only to see another warg bearing down on them. The orc jumps from its mount towards Thorin but the girl tackles it from the side, slamming her blade home into its throat, the other following closely into its lower abdomen, black, filthy blood soaking her hands. Thorin sweeps his sword in a broad stroke, slicing the warg's mouth and the creature collapses. He drags the woman to her feet and they run the last few paces to the pass. He grabs onto the back of her shirt and hauls her in front of him. He holds onto her as they slide and fall, limbs entangled to land on the rock floor, his weight pinning her down.

He pulls his arm out from under her, still breathing hard, and pulls himself off of her. There is a nick on her cheek from his axe, that is hanging over his head and sliced into her face. His fingers graze the cut gently as he pulls her to her feet. She leans heavily on the wall, eyes unfocused. She wobbles slightly but manages to stay upright. "You have my thanks," Thorin says in a quiet, gravelly voice for her ears alone. She gives him a heavy-lidded glance and blinks her lashes slowly in acknowledgement, too battered to do much else.

A horn sounds above them and they watch the tunnel opening with bated breath, wondering what is transpiring on the outside. There is the sickening thud of arrows embedding in flesh and the cries of wounded orcs. There are horse hoof-beats as well now, not just the sharp pad of warg feet. Suddenly, a body tumbles down the stone entrance, rolling to lie inert at their feet. Thorin pulls the arrow out of its chest with a vicious yank and a snarl or disgust. Upon examining the tip, he growls, "Elves." He drops it on the cave floor as if it burns his skin.

Thorin exchanges a look with Gandalf, the wizard masking his expression as well as he can but suspicion is now forming in Thorin's face.

Ahead, Dwalin is already moving down the passage, always scouting ahead. "I can't see where the pathway leads," he calls back. "Do we follow it or no?"

"Follow it of course!" Bofur answers, the rest of the dwarves crushing up against him to see where this passageway leads.

"I think that would be most wise," Gandalf says as he counts again, making sure everyone is still accounted for.

They start down the labyrinthine path, ducking heads to avoid crags and rock protrusions. Kili stops to let Thorin pass and Fili stops as well to wait for his brother. Looking back, Thorin sees Kili take the girl's arm and wrap it around his shoulder to support her as she tries to limp along after them. She murmurs something inaudible to him but he shakes his head and shushed her gently, grasping her arm tighter around his shoulder. She can barely walk, face white and bloodless, blood running freely down her leg.

Suddenly she collapses, legs completely giving out underneath her, her weight pulling on Kili. "Thorin!" Kili calls, panic creeping into his voice, causing their leader to turn. Kili lowers her to the ground and puts a hand under her nose. "She's barely breathing!" he says, fretful and anxious. Thorin and Fili kneel next to him, Gandalf hovering over them.

"Move aside," the wizard orders. He places a hand on her forehead and murmurs under his breath. She doesn't stir. "She's fading, quickly," Gandalf says. "She is badly malnourished and as lost far too much blood. We need to reach the end of this tunnel and fast if she is to survive."

He motions to the three dwarves clustered around her. "One of you will need to carry her."

Kili scoops her up in his arms without further discussion, feeling indebted to her. He is surprised at how light she is, almost fragile in his arms, especially after seeing her unseat that orc.

As Kili and Fili start down the passage after the company, Thorin grabs onto Gandalf's arm, holding the wizard in place. "I will not be responsible for every stray we pick up, Gandalf. She saved Kili's life and for that I am grateful but she needs to stay somewhere safe after this. I don't trust her."

Gandalf sighs, seeing Bilbo watching them up ahead. "Something is at work here Thorin, something even I do not understand. She crossed paths with us for a reason and before you pass judgement on her, perhaps we should unravel the mystery of her presence first. She clearly has weaponry skills and I suspect a great deal to offer your company."

Thorin scowls at the wizard. "I trust your judgement, Gandalf, but you are beginning to try my patience."

"Noted," Gandalf says quietly.

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Filing down the passageway singly gives the dwarves some trouble, mostly due to frayed tempers and copious amounts of gear. Thorin glances upwards at the sky above, a narrow ribbon of white light above them. Bilbo stays close to Gandalf, occasionally looking back at the woman, unconscious in Kili's arms.

The sandy floor scratches under his feet. "Gandalf, where are we?" Bilbo asks.

"You can feel it?" Gandalf asks, a touch of wonder in his voice.

"Yes," comes Bilbo's quick reply. "It feels like-, well it feels like magic." He stutters a bit, feeling embarrassed by his admission.

Gandalf looks at the hobbit with his small wizardly smile, shaking his head ever so slightly. "That's exactly what it is. A very powerful magic." Bilbo looks at him with wide eyes, awed by all around him.

"There's light ahead!" comes Dwalin's voice from further on. Bilbo turns his head towards the voice, then back towards Gandalf, then moves on, still baffled. Gandalf chuckles quietly to himself and follows the hobbit.

Behind them, Kili and Fili keep pace behind Gandalf, each watching over the woman. Her honey-brown hair sticks across her forehead from the clamminess of her skin, her dark eyelashes closed over sallow cheeks. Fili gently brushes the strands of hair from her face, exchanging a glance with his brother as he does so. She has saved both their lives already in the short time they have known her and despite her strange knowledge of their quest, neither dwarf prince will be able to part with her lightly.

Ahead the dwarves exit the passageway one at a time, passing a small, trickling water fall. Dwalin and Bofur lead, and small gasps of awe precede Bilbo before he too exits the gloom of the passage to stand on a precipice above one of the most stunning vistas he has ever seen.

Before them lies a great house, full of arched doorways, airy passages over waterfalls, gleaming in the dying light of day, resplendent with verdant foliage and a mystique unlike anything the mountain-dwelling dwarves have witnessed or the hole-dwelling hobbit have seen in their lives. It is all built into the slopes of the cliffs around it, defying gravity, unearthly with its perfect harmony with the landscape surrounding it.

Gandalf comes up behind them, a small satisfied smile on his face. "The Valley of Imladris," he says by way of introduction. "In the common tongue, it is known by a different name."

"Rivendell," Bilbo breathes.


	6. Five

"Here lies the last Homely House East of the Sea," Gandalf says.

As Bilbo stands with mouth agape at Rivendell, Thorin turns to Gandalf, fury etched across his face. "This was your plan all along," he growls. "To seek refuge with our enemy."

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf retorts. "The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself." Bilbo surreptitiously glances back at the pair of bickering leaders. He keeps his face blank, desperately wanting to go down to the valley, but not wanting to anger Thorin, who is temperamental about the elves at best.

"Who think the elves, will give our quest their blessing?" Thorin spits incredulously. "They will try to stop us," he says, shaking his head in frustration.

"Of course they will," Gandalf says good-naturedly. "But we have questions that need to be answered."

Thorin slowly lowers his head, fighting his pride and trying to let good sense prevail. He gives a sigh of defeat. "If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact. And respect," Gandalf tells him. "And no small degree of charm." He gives Bilbo a quick wink when Thorin isn't looking. "Which is why you will leave the talking to me."

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They descend into the Elves' Valley on the small dirt trail which slowly gives way to the stone walkways that arch throughout Rivendell. Passing over one of the many rivers roaring down from waterfalls, Bilbo looks around with a smile on his face, pleased to feel the warm sunlight on his face and a sense of safety that has been sorely lacking since this quest began.

Gandalf leads the party to a round platform at the bottom of a set of stairs, a theatre designed perfectly for welcoming guests, Thorin staying close behind him. Kili and Fili follow further back, Kili gently shifting the woman in his arms. She is breathing softly against his chest but every so often her eyes crease in pain before she settles again. Looking around him, Kili hopes that the majesty of this place also means it contains powerful healers. Despite the danger being past, she is still gravely injured.

The dwarves gather loosely on the dais, examining their surroundings. Thorin dips his head low to confer with Dwalin, his whisper sounding tight and angry. They scan the surroundings with more caution than their companions. Above on the stairs, a tall, dark-haired elf steps into view, passing between two guards clad in mail and midnight blue robes. "Mithrandir!" He calls.

Gandalf turns to looks up at him. "Ah, Lindir!" Gandalf says fondly as the elf lightly touches his chest above his heart, offering the same hand towards the wizard.

"Stay sharp," Thorin whispers to Dwalin as Lindir reaches the bottom of the steps and approaches Gandalf. Bilbo peers around the dwarves trying to get a better glimpse at what is going on. Kili holds onto the woman a little tighter, not knowing how to react around elves.

Lindir says something to Gandalf in Elvish to which the wizard responds "I must speak with Lord Elrond."

Lindir's expression shifts but only slightly as if he has practiced great control over the course of his life to appear so perfect. "My Lord Elrond is not here," Lindir says, this time in the Common Tongue, hair stirring slightly in the breeze.

Gandalf's eyebrows crease slightly in confusion. "Not here?" He looks beyond Lindir for a moment as though expecting the elf lord to be hiding somewhere in the House. "Where is he?"

Lindir looks ready to reply when a hunting call rings clear and true in the valley and his gaze goes behind Gandalf. "Ah," the wizard says with an amused smile and turns to look back through the archway they had just come through as the sound of approaching horses fill the air. All the dwarves turn as one to see the host descending the slopes into the valley.

Gandalf's smile fades when the horses do not check their pace. Thorin hollers, "Close ranks!" and grabs the back of Nori's pack, dragging him close. Bofur grabs Bilbo, pulling him to the middle of the circle. Fili draws one of his twin blades and Dwalin hefts his axe with a defiant scowl on his face.

As the elves mount the dais, they surround the party, banners rippling, horses pressing close to the bristling dwarves. They form two solid rings around the dwarvish company, hemming them in from all sides, looming over them in both stature and from high on horseback.

As the horses surround them, Kili pulls the woman in close to his chest, wishing he had a weapon in hand but unwilling to let her down seeing as she can't stand. Fili notices his predicament and stands back to back with his brother to offer some support. "Turn her to the middle," Fili whispers quickly as the horses surround them. "We don't know if we can trust them or not." Kili and Fili rotate together, hiding her from direct view.

The elves press close but don't lower their lances towards the dwarves. The leader is without helmet and dismounts with a grace that is fluid as water. "Gandalf!" he calls in greeting, a smile on his face.

"Lord Elrond!" Gandalf greets the regal elf, who sweeps the edge of his cloak back behind his legs. " _Mellon,"_ he says in Elvish, greeting Elrond much the same way that Lindir greeted him, with a gesture from the heart outwards. Thorin and the company watch warily, not understanding the elvish passing between the two men.

" _Where have you been?"_ Gandalf asks.

" _We've been hunting a pack of Orcs that came up from the South_ ," Elrond responds. " _We slew a number near the Hidden Pass_." Bilbo looks on in surprise as the elf lord embraces Gandalf.

"Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders," he says in the Common Tongue, holding up an Orc sword for examination. He raises his eyebrows at Gandalf as he walks past the wizard to hand Lindir the sword. "Something or someone has drawn them near." He glances at Gandalf with a wry look in his eyes.

"Ah, yes, well that might have been us," Gandalf says sounding a bit ruffled and chagrined at the same time. Elrond, standing beside Gandalf sees Thorin step forward from the ranks of dwarves. The elf lord does not flinch from the animosity in the dwarf king's eyes and approaches him.

"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain," he hails in his cultured voice, circlet of silver gleaming in the sunlight on his brow.

"I do not believe we have met," Thorin says, looking up at the elf from under suspicious dark brows.

Elrond looks at the rest of the company, then back at Thorin. "You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain."

"Indeed," Thorin says in mock surprise, voice lowering slightly at the end. "He made no mention of you."

Elrond nods, a small, acquiesce grin on his face, clearly seeing he will get no further with the stubborn dwarf king within offering his hospitality. But before he can speak further, his gaze is drawn to a movement in the middle of the dwarves where none had been before. With his keen elvish eyesight, he picks out the anomaly in the group and his eyes widen fractionally, a wave of foresight passing over him.

"What is this?" Elrond asks, an elegant eyebrow raised. Thorin follows his eyes and sees him looking at the woman in Kili's arms. Kili backs up a step, shielding her partly with his body as the Elf approaches. Fili raises the tip of one of his swords slightly in warning. Elrond acknowledges it by stopping his approach.

"We found this young woman in the wilderness, just off the Great East Road," Gandalf intercedes. "She was badly wounded in an encounter with trolls and the orc skirmish only aggravated her injuries."

Elrond looks back at Gandalf with a wry look. "My, you have been busy, my friend."

"She needs immediate medical attention," Gandalf says. "We were hoping your people could see to her." Elrond gives one graceful nod.

Elrond turns once again towards Fili and Kili who look unsure. Kili looks at Thorin for a cue as to what to do. Thorin looks to Gandalf who nods slightly. Thorin tells his nephew, "Let the elf take her into his care, Kili." As Kili hesitantly steps forward, Fili jerks slightly towards her as if he doesn't want her to leave his sight. The gesture does not go unnoticed by Elrond who nods to him.

"I will not harm her, prince of Durin," he says, addressing Fili by his title. Slowly Fili nods and Kili passes the unconscious woman to Elrond. The moment she enters his arms, his eyes raise in question and he turns to Gandalf with a questioning gaze. "Strange," he mutters under his breath, his eyes meeting Gandalf's who motions that they will discuss it later. Thorin watches the exchange with narrowed eyes, not liking the secrecy between Gandalf and the caretaker of Rivendell. Truth be told, this woman unnerves him. He hasn't put much faith in destiny or fate since the fall of Erebor but something about her sets his senses alight as if she is changing the fabric of reality around them.

Elrond calls for several elves to help carry the woman into Rivendell on a litter so not as to aggravate her wounds any further. He sees the forlorn look Fili, Kili and many of the other dwarves are giving her retreating form, marveling at the strong connection that has clearly already formed. He addresses Fili but includes the rest of the dwarves and the one hobbit when he says, "We will care for her tonight and you may visit her as soon as the healers are done dressing her wounds. We will send word to Thorin when she is settled."

Despite what his uncle says about elves, Fili cannot help but bowing to one knee in front of Elrond. "You have my thanks, my lord." Slightly surprised, Elrond bows his head in acknowledgement and turns to lead Gandalf into the houses. Thorin grabs Fili and pulls him to his feet.

"While you behaved befitting of a prince, be gracious if they save her life," he says bitingly to his nephew. "Don't forget what they have done to our people. Beware your fondness for a woman you do not know."

Chastised, Fili hangs his head, the other dwarves leaving him alone with Bilbo on the dais, ready for the food and beds Elrond has offered them after taking the farm girl to the healing rooms. The hobbit looks at him with shrewd eyes. Fili looks at him with a cocky grin but Bilbo sees right through it. As Fili turns to follow the company, Bilbo catches his arm, then drops it, fearing he is being too forward. He stutters a bit but then finally gets it out. "I think,.. well, that is to say…. You were right to do as you did, Fili." The hobbit looks at him with sincere eyes. "You will be a wise leader someday."

The hobbit meanders away, looking at all of the majestic sights that greet the eye in Rivendell. Fili shakes his head ruefully in wonder. How strange hobbits can be.

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"Try it," Dori urges Ori as he sips wine from a silver goblet. "Just a mouthful."

Ori looks at the leafy green in his hand with distaste. "I don't like green food," he says despondently.

"Where's the meat?" Dwalin asks, riffling through the salad bowl in front of him, spilling greens and onions onto the table in is disgust.

Oin stabs a small white, curved vegetable and eyes it critically. "Have they got any chips?" Ori asks, peering around at the elves.

Elves sitting on the open-air patio are playing the harp, another on the flute, gentle music like babbling streams and birdsong. It is so soft, that it has lulled Bifur to sleep at the other table, a thin trickle of drool hanging from his mouth. Gandalf and Elrond join them above on another outdoor table, Thorin with them.

"Kind of you to invite us," Gandalf says to their host as they head for the table. "Though I'm not really dressed for dinner."

Elrond looks back at him with one quirked eyebrow. "Well, you never are," he says and they share a friendly laugh. Thorin watches the interaction, weighing how much he is willing to trust this elf.

At the lower table, Kili looks up at the elves playing the harp and the flute. Bofur watches the young dwarf, seeing the fascination in his eyes as he catches the eye of the brown-haired woman through the strings of the harp she is playing. Kili gives her a cocky wink and a cheeky grin before he notices Dwalin giving him the angriest frump face he has ever received from his mentor in his life. The smile vanishes and Bofur laughs at his expense.

"Can't say I fancy elf maids myself," Kili says nonchalantly. "Too thin. They're all high cheekbones and creamy skin." Dwalin raises both of his eyebrows but his expression doesn't change, as if he is humoring his best friend's nephew. Bofur nods in agreement.

He turns to watch an elf passing behind himself. "Not enough facial hair for me," he says, trying for a suave, calm tone. "Although, that one there is not bad," he says, looking after the elf.

"That's not an elf maid." Dwalin says to Kili, leaning over the table. The elf turns and reveals a man playing a small hand harp with high brows and an aloof expression. Kili looks back at Dwalin with an expression of horror and embarrassment to which Dwalin gives him a heavily exaggerated wink. The rest of the dwarves at their table break out into laughter at his expense as Kili's expression turns to a sour embarrassment.

"That's funny," he mutters, noticing even old Balin is joking at him. He glances to the other lower table at Fili for help but his brother is preoccupied with his own thoughts and he probably would not even help him anyways, only make the mocking worse for his little brother.

The woman elf behind Oin continues to play her flute and he looks over his shoulder at her. Grabbing a napkin from the table, he stuffs it into his ear trumpet, readjusts the horn to his ear and gives a thumbs up of delight to his companions at the reduced sound.

Above them at Elrond's table, the lord of Rivendell is handling the curved sword Thorin found in the troll cave. "This is Orcrist. The Goblin-cleaver," he examines the sword. "A famous blade. Forged by the high elves of the West. My kin." He hands the sword back to Thorin. "May it serve you well." Thorin nods his thanks, trying to be gracious and tactful as Gandalf requested.

Elrond takes the sword Gandalf offers him next. He pulls the blade slightly from the sheath to take a closer look. "This is Glamdring. The Foehammer. Sword of the King of Gondolin. These swords were made for the goblin wars of the First Age."

Listening bellow, Bilbo pulls his sword slowly from the leather sheath so he can see the blade.

"I wouldn't bother, laddie," Balin confides in him, having seen what the hobbit was doing. "Swords are named for the great deeds they do in war."

Bilbo looks up at him, eyes narrowed in confusion. "Are you saying my sword hasn't seen war?" Balin looks at him, trying to form the words and failing to find a tactful way to tell his suspicions to Bilbo.

"I'm not sure it actually is a sword," Balin says with his small, wise smile. "More of a letter-opener really." Bilbo looks down at his sword and then at Balin, trying to figure out if the dwarf is making fun of him and realizing that he is not.

"How did you come by these?" Elrond asks Gandalf above. Thorin's eyes sharpen, coming up from his meal.

"We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road," Gandalf tells Elrond. "Shortly before we were ambushed by orcs," the wizard says, voice fierce. Thorin watches the wizard, hoping he will not give their quest away just yet.

"And what were you doing on the Great East Road?" Elrond inquires, sitting back, and putting a hand to his chin.

"Excuse me," Thorin says in a low voice and pushes his chair away, leaving the elf lord peering shrewdly after him. He stalks away to find his own counsel, Dwalin keeping an eye on him.

"Thirteen dwarves and a halfing," Elrond murmurs to himself, taking a drink of wine. "Strange traveling companions Gandalf, even without the addition of an injured woman."

"These are the descendants of the House of Durin," Gandalf says, pushing enthusiasm and pride into his voice, trying to fend of the elf lord's questions for a while longer. "They're noble, decent folk." He looks down at his companions just in time to see Nori stuff a goblet into his vest and Bombur to stuff a handful of salad into his beard. "And they're surprisingly cultured," he adds although he must fight to keep the enthusiasm he had before.

"And a great love of the arts," Gandalf says. Below Nori turns on the elf maid Kili winked at and demands she change the tune, muttering about feeling like he's at a funeral.

"Did somebody die?" Oin asks.

"Alright lads," Bofur pronounces. "There's only one thing for it."

Bofur gets up onto the table, kicking aside discarded bowls of salad and goblets of wine. As he starts into a song, Elrond and Gandalf look up to see what all of his antics are about. Bofur starts slow and actually on key and then slides rapidly downhill into a bawdy tavern song with lots of stomping, banging of cutlery on the table and hooting from the dwarves.

A piece of bread flies over Elrond's table and he raises an eyebrow at Gandalf who pretends not to see and bites into his salad with gusto. As the bawdy tune progresses, the flutist and harpist look at Elrond with mute expressions of horror, begging him with their eyes to make the off-key dwarves stop.

Dinner ends with flying salad, and cream pastries all over the old elvish statues.

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Slightly annoyed to have not been accepted to dine with Thorin, Gandalf and the Elf Lord, Fili finds himself wandering the halls of Rivendell after Bofur's rowdy tune. He does not want to admit that the atmosphere is peaceful and serene but it is just that and he wonders again at his uncles deep-seated hatred for the Elves. These are not the same Elves who betrayed Thror all those years ago. They are kin, but not the same. He is awed by the airy vaulted ceilings, as high as dwarrow halls but filled with more sunlight and less of the oppressive gloom that fills the jeweled halls of the Dwarves.

Lost in thought he rounds a corner and almost collides with a tall elf, dressed in ivory who is supporting someone underneath his or her arm. He backpedals quickly, stammering an apology, cursing his clumsiness, chiding himself for not being more mindful. Gathering his wits, he realizes that the elf is supporting the farm girl. He is stunned to see her awake and walking so soon but as she sways, he sees that she is nowhere near recovered yet. His gaze subconsciously runs over her, chronicling her injuries, assessing her figure.

In the heat of the battle with the trolls and then the adrenaline-filled chase across the Arnor plains, he never realized just how small she is. She barely stands as tall as him when upright, tiny by human standards. She is so thin that the bones in her wrists look like the wing bones of a bird, hollow and slim. The loose clothes she still wears flow off her frame, curtains on a sinewy body. Her curly hair is tied loosely at the nape of her neck, cascading down her back in waves. Her skin is sun-kissed and dry, weathered from time spent in the sun, and hollows deep between her bones where it should be more supple and full.

"Pardon me," Fili mumbles, clearing a path and the girl looks up at him recognition flashing through her eyes. The elf whisks her past, murmuring about getting her into a bed, casting a disapproving glance over his shoulder at the dwarf prince. The girl looks back at him, eyes fatigued but bright.

He stands in the hallway for a moment more, thoughts in turmoil, then rubs a tired hand across his forehead and heads towards the sounds of dwarf laughter and the glow of firelight.

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Wandering the halls in wonder late at night, Bilbo finally is able to find the healing rooms of Rivendell. While he has enjoyed the fountains and scenic vistas of the Homely House, his concern for the woman soon overrides his curiosity and he meanders the halls, asking an elf for directions occasionally. Soon he finds the door to her room, marked with an elf guard as per Thorin's instructions. While he may be grateful to the woman for saving Kili on the plains, the dwarf king cannot bring himself to trust her.

When Bilbo does his best to quietly open the door to her room, he finds it moves silently inwards, letting moonlight stream into the room. Gandalf looks up from his vigil at the bedside, low candles burning small flames in the mostly grey light of the room. The wizard gives the hobbit a small smile. "Ah, Bilbo, come in," he says quietly. "She is deep asleep but quietly, my good fellow."

Bilbo takes care shutting the door behind him and then joins Gandalf at the bedside. The woman has been cleaned and her face and arms on top of the blankets are free of the grime from the road. He is mildly surprised to notice that she is so small. Her arms look like the wing bones of birds, slender and graceful, although slightly sickly from malnutrition. The blood has been cleaned from her hair line and her face is relaxed in sleep in a way he has not seen before with her. Her brunette hair lies across the pillow in a wave, long now that it has been freed from the plait she had previously worn. Despite himself, Bilbo realizes that although she may not be considered a classic beauty, something about her makes her seem as though her features have been chiseled by the hand of a greater, mysterious power.

"How is she?" Bilbo asks. The elves have dressed her in a simple white gown and she looks so fragile in the candlelight, skin pale as birch bark.

"Lord Elrond's healers have taken care of all of her wounds," the wizard replies. "She is very lucky to be alive and there is no infection. She should recover quickly here in Rivendell."

Bilbo looks up at the wizard. "She will stay here?"

Gandalf quirks an eyebrow at the hobbit. "Did you suppose she would be joining our company?"

Bilbo opens his mouth to reply, then snaps it shut, realizing what he had said. "I… Well, I guess, not…no."

Gandalf laughs quietly. "Don't be so flustered, master hobbit. You are not the only one to assume she will be coming with us."

"Why would I think that?" Bilbo murmurs, almost to himself. "Why would I expect her to come with us?"

"Because you are attuned to what is around you, my dear fellow," Gandalf says. "You sensed the magic in the passageway to Rivendell. It would make some sense that you would be able to sense the power that she carries as well."

"Power?" Bilbo asks in confusion. Gandalf nods and opens his mouth as if to say more but just then the door to the healing room opens and Kili peers his dark head around the corner, followed closely as always by Fili.

"How is she, Gandalf?" Kili asks, not bothering to be invited in and instead striding into the room, leaving Fili to close the door on the disgruntled looking elf guard at the door.

Gandalf exchanges a knowing look with Bilbo that says they will discuss the woman later. "She is recovering quickly," Gandalf tells Kili and notes the sigh of relief that loosens the muscles in Fili's shoulders. Catching Gandalf watching him, Fili straightens a bit, trying to look more nonchalant about the woman lying in the bed nearby. Bilbo marks the exchange with interest, noting Fili's behavior around the woman and slowly piecing together how the younger dwarf feels about her.

Kili moves to her side. "She's so still," he murmurs. "Are you sure she is well?" he asks Gandalf with trepidation. "She injured her leg pretty badly running on the plains and she took the rider from his warg with both feet." The is a touch of admiration in his voice as he looks at her. "I've never seen anyone do that maneuver before, let alone a wounded woman."

"She is extraordinary," Gandalf admits with a smile, patting the seat next to him for Fili to sit down. "Time will tell us just how much when she wakes and you can thank her properly," he says to Kili as the young dwarf kneels at her bedside, holding her hand.

The hours fade to a weak morning light, Gandalf and Kili dozing quietly at the woman's bedside, Bilbo gently sleeping in his chair. Only Fili remains awake, lost in thought, considering. He is therefore the only one awake when the woman shifts in the bed, the first sign of life they have seen from her aside from her breathing. She straightens her leg unconsciously and her eyes narrow in pain, her face turning towards him, hands gripping into the sheets. The pain must be terrible enough to wake her although it does not shock her entirely because her eyes open slowly, hazy grey like the morning light filtering through the airy windows.

There is a moment where she looks around, bewildered, tension creasing her face, as she tries to move, finding her leg bandaged and her hair down. She scans the room, panic beginning to sharpen her movements despite the pain in her leg, her head swiveling quickly, searching for threats. Her eyes flash up and meet his and she stills with unnatural pause.

They stay like that for a moment, he letting her memories return and she gauging him critically with her eyes. He barely dares to breathe, afraid of startlingly her.

When she finally looks a little calmer, he clears his throat a bit and she pulls the sheets up to her chest protectively. "How are you feeling?" It is the first thing that comes to mind and he curses the inadequacy of the first words he has said to her this morning, now that the terror of the trolls and warg chase has been left behind.

She looks at him, hair cascading down around her face, making her look young and vulnerable. With a start, Fili realizes that she truly is young, no more than twenty and five under the weariness. She tries to answer, and has to clear her throat in turn. "Where are we?"

Something about her voice or the cadence of her words causes Kili to stir and she jumps a bit as he lifts his head from where it had been resting on the edge of her bed. This in turn jolts Gandalf and wakens Bilbo and soon four pairs of eyes are looking at her, assessing her health.

"We are in Rivendell," Gandalf tells her, having looked at her confused eyes. "We have brought you to the elves to help you heal."

She looks at them, seeming overwhelmed by the dwarves and hobbit and wizard around her. "Who….w-who are y-you?" she stammers, retreating in the bed from them. "Y-you saved m-my life b-but I d-don't know w-w-who you are."

"Well you remember us, that is a start," Gandalf tells her reassuringly. She nods hesitantly. "I, my dear, am Gandalf the Grey." He motions to Bilbo and Kili. "This is Master Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit from the Shire and Kili son of Durin, nephew to Thorin, our leader." She nods, eyes flowing from person to person as they are introduced. Gandalf turns to Fili last. "And this is Fili, prince of Durin, brother to Kili and Thorin's next living heir." Fili flushes slightly under the title and tries to look princely under her clear gaze. He has not seen her gaze so free of weariness and pain since they have met and something fundamental about it is deep and moving.

Although none of them want to press her, it is Kili who voices the question on all of their minds. "And what may we call you, my lady?"

The woman flushes at the title at the end, ears turning a charming red. She breathes in slowly as if to calm herself, eyes far away, pain creeping back into her expression. "I am the daughter of Ophilion and Manra of Arnor. I lived on the abandoned farm where you found me." She looks at Gandalf, sensing he is the leader here or at least the authority figure. She takes another steadying breath. "I only want to have to tell my story once," she confides, her voice full of loss and grief. "Please let your leader, Thorin I think his name is, know and he may choose who is present to here this story. I will only be able to tell it once." Her voice cracks at the end, and she closes her eyes slowly, regathering herself.

She looks around at them, seeing the grief for her on their faces, finally settling on meeting Fili's eyes. "My name is Belireis." She tells them, her chin coming up, a remnant of pride gleaming in her eyes. "My name is Bel."


	7. Six

Belireis. Such a lyrical name for such a tortured woman, so small a figure, Thorin thinks to himself as he watches the woman sitting in the bed. Kili came rushing to him in the morning, full of stories about the farm girl, almost love struck in his lauding of her. Thorin must admit she is making an impression on his company, whether or not he wants it.

In the end, he summons Dwalin and Balin, his two oldest friends and advisors to come to the healing room to hear the farm girl's story. He is tempted to dismiss Fili and Kili but one look at the stubborn look already forming in Kili's eyes and Thorin knows that it will be less effort on his part to have them hear anyways. He supposes it will be good practice for Fili at least to be present to make decisions and judgements about the validity of her story and where one brother is the other is never far behind. He resigns himself to having both of his nephews, Gandalf and his burglar present.

Belireis is sitting against the headboard of the bed, her hair loose around her shoulders, dressed now in a long, deep blue elvish gown that covers her feet and hangs low on the edges of her shoulders. She tugs nervously at the edge of the collar, as if trying to pull it up around her neck and make her skin less visible to them. Small nicks and scars decorate the back of her shoulders, rope burns still vibrant red on her wrists. She seems to shrink away from Thorin, intimidated by his fierce countenance, eyes impossibly wide under her dark brows.

As they settle around her she swallows a couple of times, her throat dry, faced with these dwarvish strangers, a wizard and a Halfling. Fili catches her eye and offers her what he hopes is a reassuring smile and Bilbo is trying to be as friendly as possible as well. She fists her hands in the fabric of the long sleeves, hiding her fingers and summons the courage to meet Gandalf's eyes. He gives her a nod and she breathes in and out slowly for a few counts, readying herself.

As she begins her story her voice takes on a different timbre, measured but also emotionless as if she is forbidding herself from feeling the depth of her pain in front of them. Her eyes are bright with grief but she doesn't falter as she tells them her story.

"My family owned the farm land you settled on to camp before running into the trolls," she starts. "My father was Ophilion of Rohan, my mother Manra of a small town in Rhovanion." She swallows, struggling to keep her chin up. "I had two elder brothers, Theonin and Eodread. They are all dead now."

Bilbo's face creases in sorrow for her and wants to protest that they mustn't make her relive this but she continues. "My father was brother to the leader of the Rohirrim in Edoras," she says. "My uncle, Eothan sent out a call for warriors to come to the aid of Edoras. My father had not fought in years and did not want to get involved in the fighting between the Rohirrim in Edoras and the Wild Men in the hills of Rohan but he felt honor bound to help his brother. Theonin offered to go in his place. My father needed Eodread for the harvest and couldn't spare both his sons and my mother did not want Theonin to travel alone so….so I volunteered to go,…as a healer."

"We left for Rohan about a year ago from now, in the spring. We traveled the wilds and reached Edoras by foot within two weeks. By then the Wild Men were getting bold and making raids on the villages surrounding Edoras itself. Theonin and I presented ourselves to the king in Edoras and to our uncle Eothan who took Theonin into his service as one of the riders of the Rohirrim. He was taught how to ride in war, being very different from what he had ever known."

In her eyes, Bilbo can see her fondness for her brother, the love she felt for him, the pride of having a strong and brave elder brother. Her love is deep and so too is her grief as she turns from those moments of pride to what followed.

She keeps her eyes down as she talks, lost in memory. "Theonin fought in many battles, helping to beat the Wild Men back from the villages, to keep the farmers safe. I traveled with them on these skirmishes as a field healer, dressing wounds and helping keep camp. Theonin taught me how to use knives during that time, telling me that I had to be able to defend myself in case of an unexpected attack in the night, the kind the Wild Men were known for. His teachings saved me more than once." Fili notices how she absently rubs a slim scar on her forearm, one he had not noticed until now, one that was clearly made by a weapon with a serrated edge. The skin is smooth with scar tissue but the line is ragged and must have hurt very badly when she received it.

"We remained in Edoras for nine months, aiding our uncle Eothan and the king until the Wild Men were at last cleared from the lands nearest the city and retreated back into their hills. It was a long campaign and a fierce one but when it finished it was close to harvest time and Theonin was feeling guilty leaving our father and brother alone with the harvest and I knew my mother needed my help with the livestock and preparations on the farm for winter. We left Edoras behind roughly three weeks ago to head home."

"Despite our guilt, we took time to head home, seeing the land." Belireis's voice is riddled with self-blame. "Perhaps, if we hadn't been so selfish we would have gotten home in time…"

She trails off, unshed tears clogging her throat. Her eyes glaze over in pain as she shifts, trying to alleviate the agony of her leg and hide the more bitter pain in her heart. Kili is looking at her with compassion and Balin regards her as he would a family member in the same situation, with a tenderness that is unbounded.

"Rohan was the land of my father," she says, voice still strong, almost hard as she forces any wavering away. "Theonin and I wanted to see it. We had not known much of life away from the farm and wanted to explore. Eodread was always comfortable on the farm but Theonin and I were always wandering, wanting to see new places and people. The world has so much to offer and we wanted more of it, I suppose." She says it with shame, devastated that her desire led her here.

"When we reached home,… when…," she takes a shuddery breath. "When we reached the farm, it was abandoned, smashed and hollow, with plants growing in the fireplace, the roof barely held in place, all the animals gone." She says it in a rush, with no inflection. The listeners know where this must end and as much as they don't want to press her, they have to hear this.

"We wandered the woods near the farmstead, looking for my parents and my brother," she says woodenly. "There never was much hope that they were there; the destruction was too vast for them to still be there. We found their bones when we found the trolls."

"We never knew how long our parents and brother had been dead for," she says, eyes flat now, devoid of any emotion, still in an expressionless face. "They captured us before we realized what was happening. They,…," Something like a sob escapes her but she doesn't cry, not a single tear. "They…they skinned Theonin and killed him first."

Bilbo cannot help the gasp that comes out of him even though he knows this was her family's fate. But for her to witness the death of her beloved brother in front of her eyes… he cannot imagine the horror and anguish of it.

Belireis continues as if she has said nothing shocking, looking up and beyond them. "They tied me in the pen where they normally keep their meals. I spent two days tied to the post before they captured your horses on the end of the second night. The rest, you know."

There is a moment of quiet. Then Gandalf murmurs, "My dear, you are welcome to stay here as long as it takes for you to heal. You have endured much."

She doesn't reply, her eyes foggy and lost. No one knows how to fill this aching silence that yawns before them. Finally, Thorin clears his throat. "We are grateful to you, Lady Belireis, for your aid and bravery," he says, hating how generic the words sound. "We will leave you to rest. Come, Kili, Fili," he orders.

He stands and gives her a small nod before leaving the room, Dwalin and Balin trailing in his wake. Gandalf sighs deeply. "I will talk with you further later, my dear," he tells her. "We have much to discuss." Bilbo catches the slightly cryptic tone in the wizard's voice and wonders at what it is Gandalf wants with her. He follows the wizard out, noting how reluctant Kili and Fili are to leave her side. Kili struggles with his words and then gives up, pushing roughly past Bilbo who looks back to watch Fili murmur something to the girl. She nods at him, eyes bright.

Fili leaves her then, something aching on his face, closing the door gently. Unable to hide his curiosity, Bilbo has to ask, "What did you say to her?"

Fili shakes his head, avoiding the hobbit's question. "I need some time to think, Master Baggins." Never has Bilbo seen Fili so serious as he walks away, his tread even seeming downtrodden. He clearly cares for her, and it weighs on him, her sorrow.

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"Our business is no concern of Elves," Thorin practically spits.

"For goodness sake, Thorin, show him the map," Gandalf demands. Bilbo watches without saying a word, trying not to anywhere near too close to either side in this argument.

"It is the legacy of my people," Thorin retorts, voice deep with mistrust. "It is mine to protect. As are its secrets."

"Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves!" Gandalf entreats. It is night now and Gandalf, Bilbo, Lord Elrond and Balin, Fili and Thorin are all assembled in one of the vast halls of Rivendell, talking in the moonlight. Thorin pulled Fili away from the rest of the dwarves who were merrily roasting chair legs over a fire to come with them. Fili feels slightly out of place, unsure how to act, although he supposes this is why Thorin has brought him, to teach him more about ruling and interacting with other leaders.

"Your pride, will be your downfall," Gandalf admonishes Thorin. "You stand here in the presence of one of the few people in Middle-Earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond!"

Elrond looks from the wizard to the dwarf king, keeping his own curiosity from showing. Bilbo looks between the elf and Thorin, as each weighs the others gaze. Thorin reaches inside his vest then and Balin moves to stop him. "Thorin, no!" But Thorin brushes off his old friends protests and hold the map out to Lord Elrond, stiffly, but as an unmistakable offer of peace.

Elrond takes it with delicate hands and unfolds it slowly, the aged paper moving against his fingers. His dark brows crease in a frown. "Erebor?" he asks, eyes boring into Thorin. Thorin keeps his eyes slightly lowered. "What is your interest in this map?" The elf lord demands, though not forcefully.

Thorin draws a breath, and Fili waits to see how his uncle will react. However, it is Gandalf that fills the moment with words. "It's mainly academic," the wizard interjects. Thorin breathes in, watching the wizard. "As you know sometimes artifacts like this contain hidden text?"

Elrond paces away to look at the map and Gandalf meets Thorin's eyes, who nods in relief. For a moment, Fili hadn't been sure whose side the wizard was on but it is clear that Gandalf still supports Thorin despite their recent disagreements.

"You still read ancient Dwarvish do you not?" Gandalf asks Elrond, his voice light. Elrond turns the map in the moonlight, examining the parchment at different angles.

" _Cirth Ithil_ ," he says, gazing up at the moon and then the map.

"Moon Runes?" Gandalf breaths in. "Of course." He looks at Bilbo quickly who is watching the proceedings without any comment. "An easy thing to miss," the wizard tells him. Bilbo looks back towards the elf, his expression unchanging, and still somewhat befuddled.

"Well in this case that is true," Elrond says. "Moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written." He turns back to look at Thorin, lowering the map.

"Can you read them?" Thorin asks, deep hope awakening inside of him.

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Elrond leads them out onto a beautiful expansive platform, naturally carved from the walls of the cave that surround it. They are high in the cliffs surrounding Rivendell, a waterfall streaming down over the edge of the cave, luminous white in the moonlight. The stunning vista centers on an alabaster slab of quartz, rising up at the edge of the platform, a formation vaguely shaped like a pedestal.

It is towards this that Elrond leads them. "These runes were written on a Midsummer's Eve, by the light of a crescent moon, nearly 200 years ago," he tells them as they file out into the open night air. He places the map on the raised dais and smooths it out with his long, graceful fingers. "It would seem that you were meant to come to Rivendell."

He looks up at the hobbit and dwarves gathered around him. "Fate is with you Thorin Oakenshield. The same moon shines upon us tonight." Fili and Thorin gaze up towards the moon which eerily appears from behind the clouds just as Elrond is saying this, sending chills up Fili's spine.

They watch in bated anticipation at the light from the moon filters down out of the night sky to illuminate the dais, bathing the stone in pearlescent light, bright before their eyes. Bilbo watches in astonishment as glittering blue characters begin to take shape on the map, at the bottom right corner, beneath the words "The Desolation of Smaug." Thorin peers across Elrond's arm at the map, not quite believing what he is seeing.

Elrond flattens the map with his fingers, holding the edges down as he begins reading.

"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks…

And the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day…

Will shine upon the key-hole."

"Durin's Day?" Bilbo asks Balin as Thorin crosses his arms a pondering hand coming up to his chin.

"It is the start of the Dwarves new year," Gandalf tells him. "When the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together."

"This is ill news," Thorin murmurs, almost to himself, then sees his nephew and Gandalf staring at him. "Summer is passing. Durin's Day will soon be upon us."

"We still have time," Balin says. Bilbo furrows his eyebrows at the older dwarf, not understanding his meaning.

"Time? For what?" he asks.

"To find the entrance," Balin says, a fervor heating his voice. "We have to be standing in exactly the right spot at the exactly the right time. Then and only then, can the door be opened."

"So this is your purpose?" Elrond says, his voice full of disbelief and discontent. "To enter the mountain?" Fili catches Balin's look of regret at having revealed their plans to the elf lord but Thorin doesn't bother denying the truth now that it has been spoken.

"What of it?" he asks the elf lord confrontationally.

"There are some who would not deem it wise," the elf lord retorts in the same deep measured tone but still holds out the map to Thorin nonetheless. He takes it sharply.

"What do you mean?" Gandalf asks Elrond. The elf looks over his shoulder in a slightly disapproving manner at the wizard.

"You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle-Earth," he tells Gandalf and Bilbo spies, just for a moment, the power that Elrond has kept hidden beneath his surface of civility. This is a very old elf, with a very long memory, with powers they do not understand. He leaves them on the platform, looking at each other with this new knowledge.

"Fili," Thorin says, turning to his nephew. "What would you counsel?"

Off put slightly at being asked for his opinion, Fili swallows, trying to ease his suddenly dry throat. He is scrambling for an adequate answer, one that will please both his uncle and the elf lord and the wizard which is no easy feat. He opens his mouth to answers but then a silhouette appears in the hall behind Thorin, vivid in the moonlight and his breath catches and he struggles to find it again.

"Fili?" Thorin asks, having never seen this look on the young dwarf's face before. Bilbo and Balin next to him turn to see what Fili is staring at and when Balin breathes in sharply, Thorin spins around.

Walking towards them, ethereal in the moonlight, is Belireis. She limps slightly, not graceful as an elf and her eyes are still weary. It does nothing, however, to disguise her pale beauty and the alluring siren call of her eyes. For a moment Gandalf's memory slips backwards in time, seeing a woman so similar from his past, yet unable to recall her name, a woman who changed the course of Middle-Earth. Then she is standing in front of them and she drops low onto her knees.

The elvish dress she is wearing puddles around her ankles, the fabric long and silky, especially on her, being small. She bows to Bilbo who seems shocked at her actions. She looks up at him through dark lashes. "Master Baggins," she addresses him in her husky alto. "I owe you a great debt."

"Oh," he stammers, perplexed by the whole situation. "No. no, you don't owe m-me."

The piercing look she gives him is enough to silence his half-formed protestations. "You saved my life." She says in the same reserved tone. "There is no greater debt."

Rather brusquely, Thorin asks in his gruff voice, "What are you doing here?" She turns to him, still on her knees. The look in her eyes is something new, something challenging, something fierce. She rises slowly, measuring her movements.

"If you would permit me a moment to speak with both yourself and Master Gandalf, I will explain," she says and that something that is in her gaze is in her voice too. It is a knowing, a certainty that is uncanny and a sense of purpose that she has lacked since they first encountered her. "It is of great importance," she says quietly.

He looks to Gandalf who nods. "Very well," Thorin says in a manner that suggests he is humoring her.

Balin looks at Thorin in question. "You can take Fili and Master Baggins back to our quarters. I will meet you there shortly." Balin nods and Bilbo casts a longing look at Gandalf who gives him a bemused smile and makes a shooing motion with his hand. Only Fili hangs back.

"Uncle..," he starts, but Thorin cuts him off.

"You may escort her back to her rooms when we are finished," he says, not unkindly. He may appear uncaring but he has seen the way Fili is starting to look at her. "She'll need a familiar face after this conversation if Gandalf's demeanor is any indicator." Fili nods in bewildered appreciation.

Thorin closes the doors behind him and then he is alone with Gandalf and the girl on the dais, the great white stone still shining with moonlight under the water fall's steady rain. He cannot help but still think of her as "the girl". She has not yet become Belireis in his mind, still only minor part in this quest to him. Although he can now see by the look on Gandalf's face that this may change.

"You have my attention," he tells her. She looks at him with those bright grey eyes, so focused and so alive. They captivate him for a moment and he can feel something happen, like a subtle shift. Her eyes blur, seeing beyond him and then they clear and she looks at him, squarely her shoulders.

"You once asked me how I knew about the Mountain," she says, and it is clear from her tone that _mountain_ is emphasized, Erebor, without a doubt. His eyes narrow, almost in anger but he sees Gandalf take a warning step forward as if to shield her. She does not shy from him though. Instead she meets his eyes. "I saw it."

He draw in a sharp breath. "What do you mean, you saw it?"

She looks unsure, as if gauging how to explain. Gandalf intercedes on her behalf.

"Belireis has an unusual gift, one I have not seen in a mortal woman in my life time," he says. Even he sounds amazed which surprises Thorin. She looks at the wizard in surprise, not having known he has guessed at her ability. Nothing seems to completely astound the wizard and yet this does. "Belireis has the power of foresight."

"Foresight?" Thorin asks in disbelief but Gandalf mistakes it for confusion and elucidates.

"She has premonitions. She sees things before they happen, can glimpse what may transpire," Gandalf says, sounding amazed himself. "Few beings in Middle-Earth have such a power. Most are ancient, yet she has this gift, I am sure of it."

"And what makes you so sure?" Thorin asks, gazing searchingly at Belireis, already seeing the advantages of having her with them. He can intuit that Gandalf will want him to take her with them, to serve as a guide based on the visions she has. He is dazzled by the idea of it for a moment before his more practical, rational side rears up. Her whole story could be an elaborate ruse, meant to misguide his quest and his kinsmen.

Gandalf begins to answer but instead, Belireis steps towards Thorin. "May I?" she asks, holding out her hand for his. Rather skeptically he reaches towards her, placing his hand in hers, surprised to feel ridges and calluses and to see that their hands are almost the same size although her fingers are slimmer. When he touches her she inhales quickly as if in shock and her eyes fade from this consciousness and move beyond. It is not so much that action that convinces him as what happens next.

She staggers and unconsciously he reaches out to steady her. She jerks back to awareness, extricating herself from his grip in embarrassment. She looks at him, then at Gandalf, who nods encouragement and then back to Thorin.

Her voice is distant as if she far away from them. "Your path leads you over mountains, wreathed in mist, to a forest dark with the shade of discontent and festering age to a mountain tall upon the hills old dwarves of old. The glittering halls of gold and dark stone call to you, high above the ruins of a town of men. You and your company will journey far, to the slopes of the mountain to reclaim a lost home."

Thorin looks at her, calculating, weighing the consequences of their meeting. Gandalf seems to be thinking the same thing. "This is not chance, Thorin," the wizard tells him. "Whether or not you believe in fate, she is meant to travel with you."

Belireis looks at the wizard, questions burning in her eyes. "You would have me join his company?" she asks the wizard, a touch of incredulity in her voice. "I am a simple farm girl with a cursed ability," she says, grief coloring her words.

"You are no simple farm girl," Gandalf replies, authority creeping into his voice. "Further, you are an adept healer and an accomplished fighter. You do not lack the skills to accompany his quest."

Thorin watches her, seeing that her actions are not feigned, that she truly is not sure of herself. That in itself convinces him that she has no malicious intent towards himself or his kin. "She must pull her weight," Thorin says. Belireis's head whips around to look at him now. "And she will be the last addition to this party," he says to Gandalf. "We cannot afford any more strays, Gandalf. I can see why you would have her with us. But time will be of the essence."

"Agreed," Gandalf acknowledges, leaving Belireis looking at the two men in confusion.

"You mean to have me travel with them?" she asks the wizard.

Gandalf turns to her, bringing the full bearing of his tall stature and intimidating gaze to rest on her. "Belireis, Daughter of Ophilion and Manra, you may not yet forgive yourself for the death of your family. I see that pain on your soul. But fate has delivered you here to this crossroads where you can turn from this path destiny has laid before you, or you can rise to meet it. There is nothing for you in the past, my dear girl. But there is a way forward, on a quest with men who already have respect for you. They will need a healer and a guide for the times when my duties may lie elsewhere. You have seen into Thorin's future because this quest will be part of your life."

Thorin, watching this exchange, marks the way the wizard uses his words well. However, he also sees how overwhelmed she is, how scared she looks and he takes pity on her. "Come," he says, beckoning towards her. "Fili is waiting outside to escort you back to your rooms. I will not demand an answer of you tonight but know that come morning, we will be leaving and you will have to have made your decision by then."

She looks up at him in question. "The elves will not sanction this quest," he explains. "We will need to leave before they attempt to stop us."

"I agree," Gandalf says. "Lord Elrond has called me to a council tonight that is bound to last for a good long while. You would do well to get some sleep quickly and be ready to leave with the dawn light."

Thorin gives him an amused raised eyebrow and then pulls him to the side to inform him they are leaving in the morning. He chooses to keep her ability to himself for now as he knows Gandalf hopes he will. Gandalf gently takes Belireis's arm pulling her to the side. "Protect him," he whispers to her. "Protect them. They will need you more than you know."

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They are left alone together for him to escort her back to her rooms. She looks exhausted by all the activity, dark half-moons stark against the pallor of her face. They walk in silence, her deferring to him and letting him lead, hanging back as though a servant. He has so much he wants to ask her, so much he wants to know more about but every time the words form on his lips, he looks back to ask her a question and sees the ache she carries under her skin, and can't make himself injure her more.

She catches him doing it just before they reach the healing room and their eyes meet. He clears his throat in the silence between them and she keeps her eyes demurely down. Now that she knows he is a prince and Thorin is a King, she has been treating them exactly as if they are royalty and she is just one of the common folk and he finds that distasteful in the oddest way. She is not someone who should ever have to bow to someone else but here she is, obeying him and Thorin as if he has a crown on his head. He has never been treated like this by someone who was a stranger to him mere days before.

"Did you have a request, my lord?" she asks quietly, pulling him from his reverie. He swallows, looking at her long hair as it swings forward to hide her face. He struggles for an answer, wanting to make sure she is alright, that she will not have nightmares tonight although he cannot fathom how he would prevent them in any case.

"No," he says and then curses the simplicity of his answer since it is not what he wanted to say. She sinks into a deep curtsy and reaches for the door knob. He remembers his manners and moves to open the door at the same time and his arm collides with her shoulder and she stumbles a bit trying to avoid contact, weight sinking onto her wounded leg. Her eyes cloud in pain for a moment, her lips pressed tightly together to avoid muttering in pain. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm so clumsy," Fili blathers, catching her around the waist and helping her to stay upright. "You must be exhausted."

She nods weakly and he helps her into the room. She is a small weight against his body, all bones and sinewy muscle. Fili gently sits her down on the bed and she nods her thanks. He stands back up and finds he doesn't want to leave, that he wants to sleep in the chair for heaven's sake, he's so concerned for her. He can't even pinpoint why he is so concerned only that her quietness unnerves him.

He sits down heavily, the realization striking him. She glances at him, eyes inquisitive, a wariness creeping over her body, tightening her sense and readying her. "Is.. is something wrong, my lord?" she asks, pulling her feet up onto the bed.

"Fili," he says, hating the sound of "my lord". When she offers a confused look, he smiles at her. "It's just Fili. I just had an interesting thought about you is all." The words come out before he can stop them and he flushes a bit but is surprised to see he isn't the only one. A dusky rose color has crept its way up her cheeks and to the tips of her ears.

Feeling slightly more somber, he looks at her. "I realized why your quiet manner feels so…. Different to me. Your grief, your pain, is so controlled, so silent."

She sucks in a breath, a quick sharp thing that says he has truly figured out something about her. She drops her gaze away, hugging her knees up to her chest. "It is not that it is a bad thing," Fili tells her, leaning forward in the chair so that his fingers briefly brush the end of the bed. "It is that it is so foreign to me that I scarcely know how to offer you comfort."

The expression on her face doesn't change and she regards him with that guarded look although her fingers begin to release their tight hold on the fabric of her dress. "Dwarves grieve differently you see," Fili finds himself saying to her. "They wail and cry without remorse or shame. Dwarf women sometimes sheer their long hair in mourning. Some celebrate the lives of fallen companions with feasts and songs and tales." She is looking at him in rapt fascination, as if hearing a fantastic tale of old. He very gently reaches forward, giving her time to back away, and takes one of her hands in his own.

"You are so quiet in your grief," he whispers to her. "It is not shameful to give it voice."

Belireis looks at him with sparkling eyes, but not a tear drops from her eyes. She brushes her hair out of her face. "In time," she whispers to him. "In time, I will grieve for all I have lost. But if I lose myself in it now, I do not know where I will find the strength to move on with my life. Your quest gives me purpose again,….Fili," she says, stumbling over his name as it passes over her tongue for the first time. "I need purpose again in my life. The grief will come. For now, a focus on repaying my debt to you and your kin and your company helps me to look beyond the past and see a future for myself take shape."

He squeezes her hands, letting her know he understands. They stay like that for a moment more before he gently places her hand down on the bed and stands. "Then we best rest," Fili tells her with a soft smile. "Uncle is an early riser and plans to be on the move fairly early." His voice is light in jest, masking the deep emotion he felt from her. "Rest,…. Belireis."

He turns to leave and she whispers so soft, "Thank you, Fili," a phantom noise against his ears. He turns to look at her, one hand on the door, ready to leave, but unwilling to do so.

He hesitates. She tilts her head to the side slightly, her eyes barely visible in the gloomy light. Then he closes the door firmly and walks back over to her. She looks at him in question. "I would rather you not be left alone, tonight," he says with as much confidence as he can muster. "Someone has to make sure you are well rested for tomorrow."

A diaphanous smile slides over her lips. She moves over on the bed, curling small against the pillow and he lies down on the floor next to her bed. She hands him a pillow, her small fingers grazing his, the tickle of her hair on his forearm making him smile. He settles himself on the floor, as she pushes a blanket over the edge. He begins to protest, saying she will need it more but she shushes him gently which he finds endearing and all argument leaves him.

He hears her settle in as well, close to the edge of the bed. "Goodnight, Fili."

"Goodnight, Belireis."


	8. Seven

As Fili gently leads Belireis away Thorin cannot deny the way his nephew has already begun to look at her. He knows Gandalf sees it too even as he tells Bilbo to get some rest before the sunrises and they must leave. The hobbit looks overwhelmed but has not said anything out of turn or protested in any way and for that Thorin is grateful. A man who can keep his own counsel and weigh facts before acting will be a true gem on this quest, especially being surrounded by so many hard-headed dwarves. Thorin loves his kinsmen but even he has to admit their faults to himself if this quest is to succeed.

Then it is just Gandalf and himself on the precipice with the gleaming waterfall rushing past them like a loud sigh. The wizard looks haggard, more tired than usual and Thorin suspects it has something to do with Belireis. Foresight. He can hardly believe it.

They regard each other for a moment, both feeling the weight of leadership leaning heavily on each of them in different ways. Thorin knows that even though the wizard has different methods of completing this quest than he, Thorin, has in mind, the wizard still respects Thorin's judgment and wants the quest to succeed almost as much as Thorin does. For this reason alone, Thorin does the best he can to swallow his pride and apologize to the wizard. "I was wrong to be so curt with you early this evening," he says, words sticky in his throat, worming their way past his pride.

"And I was wrong to expect you to easily change and trust an elf," Gandalf acknowledges with a small smile. "Although I am grateful that you trusted me enough to do so."

Thorin nods in acquiescence. "And this business with the girl?" He says the phrase as a question, hanging empty, waiting for Gandalf to elucidate. The grey wanderer sighs deeply.

"Lord Elrond has asked me to attend a council upon the sunrise," he says, not quite answering Thorin's question yet but building the foundation for his response and explanation. "You must leave and you must take the girl with you. I will be unable to leave within raising suspicion but I will return to as soon as I am able. There are dark thing gathering in the world, Thorin, things stronger than even the evil of Smaug, of which I believe is only a precursor to what may come."

Thorin is disturbed by this, mostly because this is one of the only times he has ever seen Gandalf rattled. "What do you mean?"

"I wish I knew," The wizard says with a shake of his head. "But your meeting Belireis was no chance and I stand by that. Without me you will need someone to guide you when no path appears and you will need a healer. It can be no coincidence that she can fulfill both roles. Furthermore, I do not want her gift to remain here. I cannot explain the presentiment I have but if she were to stay here I suspect she would become more prisoner than anything, if only because the elves fear and revere those with the ability to see the future. With her we can at least offer her a choice about her future."

"I respect your wisdom on this," Thorin replies, "But I hardly think that a quest to possibly face a dragon is a suitable future for a farm girl. I admit she has formidable skills in battle. The way she dispatched that Warg to save Kili was something I have not witnessed from a woman before. But would she not be better suited to travel to her remaining family in Rohan? Surely they would take her in?"

Gandalf considers, thinking hard before wording his argument. "When I first realized the power she possessed I was struck with the strangest sense of memory that I have ever felt. As though I had met her before, in a previous life." Thorin looks at him curiously, admittedly skeptical but willing to indulge the wizard since he has powers that Thorin cannot fathom. "I cannot explain who she reminds me of but even that feeling is enough to convince me of her importance. She has glimpsed the mountain, even you must admit you have seen that in her eyes."

Thorin crosses his arms considering. When she first delivered that prophetic announcement, he had put a blade to her neck, suspicions raised but he cannot deny the truth he saw in her eyes as he threatened her. She has seen Erebor, witnessed the mountain in its lonely glory and he knows that deep down he wants to understand why.

Finally, he nods. "So it is settled then," he half asks the wizard. Gandalf nods at him, one hand wound around his staff, leaning on it slightly for support. "We will leave as soon as the sun rises. Hopefully your council provides sufficient distraction." He gives Gandalf a wry smile, knowing how much the other despises discussing things in a committee when there are actions to be committed.

Gandalf reaches into the folds of his robes, fumbling for a moment in his pouch and then produces two gleaming blades that he holds out to Thorin. The blades are sickle shaped, curved with leather wrapping on the handles, a perfect matched set. Engraved symbols wind up the blades, written in a language that Thorin does not understand but can now recognize as Elvish. He takes them from Gandalf, feeling their slight weight.

"I found those in the troll hoard," Gandalf explains. "The same feeling of familiarly came to me when I saw them and I would have you give them to Belireis." Thorin turns the blades in the moonlight, admiring, despite himself, the craftsmanship that went into the blades. "They are twins, named Sunrise and Sunset," Gandalf tells him.

"Fitting names," Thorin says, stowing them in his belt. Gandalf and he regard each other for a moment in the moonlight, sensing a turning point of sorts in front of them.

Gandalf lightens the mood. "I suppose I must go meet with the important elves," he says with a lightness in his tone, a smile in his ancient eyes. Thorin smiles back at him. "Leave with the sun," Gandalf instructs. "And trust what she tells you. I will join you as soon as possible."

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Fili falls asleep within moments, having been awake for so long now that nature takes over and he is soundly breathing in and out on the floor of her room.

Belireis, however, stays awake late into the night, sitting on the window ledge of the room, gazing out at the moonlight. She was quiet as possible when she left her bed, gently laying the second blanket on top of Fili before heading to sit on the ledge. It is a cool summer evening and the moon feels like slender fingers on her bare skin. She leans her head back against the window frame, hair long down her back, gleaming dark gold in the dark.

Fili moves in his sleep and she gazes over towards where he lies, but he settles after a moment. She does not realize it but a small smile creases her lips as she looks at him, thankful for his kindness. The world has not been kind to her of late and his loyalty to her unbalances her. In fact, the kindness of the wizard and the hobbit and some of the dwarves is startling to her after all the events of recent months. She has been in a world so dark for so long and now it is turning to the grey of dawn. She knows not what it means, only that she is less alone, less full of the aching despair that robbed her of everything when she lost her family.

She thinks of them now, still quiet in her grief, not crying, trying her best to remember them fondly. Her mother's beautiful long, dark hair, her father's tawny beard and bear hug. Eodread's habit of yanking on her long braid, Theonin's lessons in knife fighting. There is aching, crushing, cursed guilt underneath it all, an all-consuming shame that wraps its hands tightly around her bones. Before, she knew not what her strange visions were telling her, knew not of the power of foresight. She had thought it was only a strange sight brought on by heat or dreams, not an ability based more in lore and magic than anything she could have ever thought was possible. If only she had known, had been smarter, had warned them, maybe they would still be here today.

She knows deep down that nothing can change what has happened, nothing could have altered her family's fate, but to have seen the destruction of the farm in her mind's eye and to have only thought it was a waking nightmare seems childish, foolish even. Bel will have to live with this for the rest of her life.

She does not know where her life is going now either. Only weeks ago, she was a simple farm girl heading home to see her family after a grander adventure than she could have ever hoped for. Only days ago, she was despairing of ever having a future. Now she has somehow, in a way beyond her comprehension, become part of a quest more noble and vast than she could ever have imagined she would be worth. She glances at Fili again. Can she do this thing, this adventure into the unknown? She is so small in a world so large, so insignificant in a quest filled with kings and dragons and forces greater than a mere mortal woman. He is so strong compared to her, so loyal and noble, someone who knows what their future holds.

She contemplates slipping out of the window and into the night, of wandering alone in the wilderness. She could seek a home in the halls of Edoras with her uncle Eothan, a simple life that would be normal, maybe pleasant and full of work she has always known. But even thinking about it she knows that that is not her fate. Something pulls her, from the very depth of her being, it pulls towards this quest.

The mountain appears before her eyes then, resplendent in the moonlight and she breathes in deeply at its snow-tipped beauty. She can hear Thorin saying its name with reverence, a whisper in the night.

 _Erebor._

Despite her doubts and the lingering insecurity in her mind, Belireis knows what she must do. She cannot sneak away, a thief in the night, stealing her own destiny from herself. The mountain calls to her, something primeval in its force, luring her closer.

Then the vision disappears and she is just staring at the night blooming blossoms outside her window. The summer air stirs her hair, slides slowly across the skin above her collarbones, lifting her hair away from her neck. Grey eyes gazing out into the night, she makes her decision.

As she does, a new vision sweeps across her. Golden light cascades over her as she looks at the kingdom of Erebor from high on top of a frozen waterfall. The ruins of a citadel linger in cragged cliffs and monoliths of stone around her. She is the only living thing for miles, the ruins of an old city spread out before her, the great plain, wide and waiting as it slopes towards the mountain. The clouds are slowly parting, the falling snow lingering for a moment and then melting in the air before it can land on her shoulders. On the precipice, she sees where it will all end for the quest; she stands alone but knows that soon forces will converge here, will fight for future and family.

Then she is back in Rivendell, on her knees in the healing room, heaving heavy breaths, a great sense of despair and hope flowing through her, an unnamable feeling that is so bittersweet that she can taste the tears forming in her mouth. The road ahead will be difficult and the ending no happy tale to tell children at night. She staggers to her feet, searching for the calming light of the moon in the sky, understanding for the first time the gravity of the curse she has been gifted.

She can see things before they happen but it is much more than that. She can sense, feel, the outcomes, know the way they will change her. This quest will scar her deeply, give her great love and friendship, and destroy her, but it will also make her into the woman she is meant to be, the woman how is so much more than a simple farm girl.

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"With or without our help these dwarves will march on the mountain," Gandalf is telling Elrond as they ascend the stairs towards the council hall. "They are determined to reclaim their homeland."

"I do not believe that Thorin Oakenshield feels he is answerable to anyone," he continues when Elrond does not interrupt. "Nor for that matter am I."

Elrond looks at him with a wry glance. "It is not me that you must answer to," he tells the wizard as they reach the council chamber and looks beyond Gandalf to a point on the edge of the waterfall.

Gandalf looks to where the elf lord glances and moonlight strikes radiant upon a tall woman standing in the archway, framed by sky and star. She turns slowly, gracefully, her gown twisting around her, the twilight colored fabric starting dark at the hem and ascending to white at her neck. Her thick gold hair hangs in waves to her waist, a circlet of silver clasping the locks away from her face. Her skin is flawless and milky in the dark, almost translucent. Her face is grave, no recognitions in her expression, just serene calm.

Gandalf's mouth opens on its own accord in surprise as he takes a step forward, almost as if entranced by this apparition. "Lady Galadriel," he says in shocked reverence.

"Mithrandir," she answers, her voice low and full of power. "It has been a long time," she says, switching to Elvish which sounds as if it was made to be spoken by her lips alone.

"Age may have changed me..," Gandalf replies in the elvish tongue, giving her a slight bow, "… but not so the Lady of Lorien." He nods to her and her lips crease into a smile slowly as though she has practiced the exact moment for days but needed not to.

"I had no idea Lord Elrond had summoned you," Gandalf says, turning toward the elf lord in question. When Gandalf meets the dark eyes of the master of Rivendell, another voice comes from behind him.

"He didn't." The voice is deep and nasally, full of old power and command. Gandalf straightens slightly, recognizing the timbre and rumble for the person it is. "I did." Gandalf's brows crease as he slowly blinks, fighting to control his expression before he turns around.

A man who could be his relative in all but style and presentation stands in the council hall. Clad in white robes, muddied by travel at the edges, with a long white beard and straight head of hair with the darkest curling brows Gandalf has ever come upon, the man stands as his mirror, holding a staff of obsidian, topped with a smooth white, ovular stone.

Gandalf pulls his face into a smile and nods his head in respect. "Saruman."

Saruman declines to nod in respect back. "You've been busy of late, my friend."

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As they set off in the morning sun, Bilbo looks back wistfully towards Rivendell. The rising sun gilds the homely house, sets the waterfalls to glistening golds and a peaceful hush lies over the still sleeping vale. He hears Elrond's voice telling him he is welcome to stay and he almost considers turning back before he hears Thorin's voice telling him to keep up. Regretfully he turns to follow the company across the edge of the wild.

Thorin gently takes Fili's arm as the younger dwarf passes him on the trail. Fili looks up at his uncle in expectation, fearing he has displeased him in some way. Thorin regards him for a moment and then leans close so that only Fili can hear his words. "Be careful," he whispers. When Fili looks at him in bewilderment, Thorin narrows the distance between them a little further. "Don't let yourself be blinded by what you want to see in her. She may not be what she seems."

He lets Fili go, the younger dwarf now even more confused than ever. The warning was so obscure, vague to the point of being insubstantial. He glances back towards where Belireis is keeping pace with the company, sunlight spraying golden highlights in her hair. He regards the retreating back of his uncle and ponders what Gandalf and Thorin discussed with Belireis last night. Perhaps his uncle is right, perhaps he is putting too much blindness in his own mind about Belireis. Yes, he cares for her but perhaps he should be more careful about her. There is something, _more_ about her and that may be what Thorin is warning him about. He resolves to keep his distance today. He reasons that there is no sense in getting too close to a woman who he still barely knows.

The hobbit turns to follow the dwarves into the hills and is slightly surprised to see Belireis is right in front of him, her chestnut hair swept up high in a cornucopia of braids, held high off her face, showing her sharp cheekbones. He knew she was here but seeing the reality of her presence in their company reminds him of the perils that await them. He knows it is foolish to worry about her as if she was a defenseless woman, when clearly she is more capable with a weapon than he is, but a protective urge wells up in him. He risks increases his pace just a fraction and draws alongside her.

Belireis glance at him, a small smile on her lips. He can see she is still favoring one leg slightly and he is reminded that she is still recovering despite how hale she appeared to him when they saw her in the moonlight and elven dress. Goodness, was that only last night. So much has happened and although he has heard her tragic story, he does not feel as if he knows her all that well.

He wants to say something to her but finds that he does not know how to start a conversation with her. Every normal conversation topic seems taboo to him in light of her recent past. She must sense his flustered befuddlement because she points to his jacket, bright eyes on the buttons. "Those are beautiful buttons, Master Baggins," she says and her words sound very formal to him, as though she is addressing a better. "Did you make those yourself?"

"Me?" he asks. When she nods, a small crease of confusion appearing between her bright eyes, he stutters, "Um, no… not me no." She tilts her head at him slightly, as if expecting a further explanation and he racks his mind to try and remember where he got this waistcoat because suddenly he cannot remember anything in the face of this woman. Something about her stills his tongue and he cannot find the right words as if they have vacated his brain through his ears when he was sleeping.

Luckily, Kili is watching them with a small smirk on his face, clearly enjoying Bilbo's obvious embarrassment and infatuation. He stops on the path, letting Bilbo and Belireis catch up to him. "Mister Baggins here has many fine waistcoats in his hobbit hole, don't you Bilbo?" While Bilbo realizes what Kili is doing, Belireis looks at him in fascination.

"Do you?" she asks, a hunger for knowledge blooming on her open face. "Tell me about your home, Master Baggins," she entreats. "You are the first hobbit I have had the pleasure of meeting and I confess I do not know much about your people."

So Bilbo ends up telling Belireis that she really must call him Bilbo and she tells him that he really must call her Bel and so they spend the morning. He tells her of Market Day, his infuriating relatives, his maps and books and hobbit hole and how the dwarves ransacked his pantry when they first met him. He tells her of the room he discovered in Rivendell with the shards of a sword next to a mural of a dark man with a golden ring and the hero who defeated him with a broken blade. He puts so much vivid detail into the story that Belireis is soon smiling and listening rapt to his tale and Bilbo wants to keep that peaceful look on her face for as long as he possibly can. She even gives a small laugh at one point that makes Fili and Thorin, in particular, turn their heads and watch her eyes crease in a full smile, the first they have really seen from her. Even if it was only a small laugh, it sounds like birdsong and the whole company continues into the afternoon with spirits lifted.

After they pause for a late midday meal, Kili takes over Bilbo's role and tells her of the Blue Mountains, the only home Fili and he have known as they were not born when the mountain fell. He tells her of Moria and how Thorin received the name "Oakenshield." These tales are more sobering but he can see understanding color her reactions to the dwarves as she now intuits the heavy importance of this quest.

She asks questions occasionally, smart, keen questions. But most of the time she is content to listen to either Bilbo or Kili or to simply observe the dwarves when they pause for breath. She has this look of concentration on her face as she watches the company and Bilbo can almost see her cataloging the people around her. He realizes that she is the sort of person who is accustomed to being in the background, to being present but silent. She has this air about her that is knowledgeable and clever but not overbearing.

When they stop and make camp for the night, Kili and Bilbo both notice Bel stumble a bit as she unshoulders her pack. She looks ragged, weariness drawing lines under her eyes. She pushed herself hard to keep Thorin's pace, not wanting to seem a hindrance but clearly the trekking all day has taken its toll. She does not complain though and instead offers to help Bombur and Bofur make dinner.

Bilbo and the dwarves roll out their sleeping rolls, feeling satisfied at having put sufficient distance between themselves and Rivendell. The mood is lighter, the dwarves happier to be on the move again. Kili sidles up towards his brother who has taken out his pipe and is trying to light it as he waits for dinner to be ready. He nudges his brother playfully in the shoulder, "You're looking all broody and moody today, Mister Dutiful," Kili says. Fili takes a swat at him but Kili ducks away and then nicks Fili's pipe. "This wouldn't have to do with our newest company member, would it?" Kili says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Shhhhh!" Fili hisses. He makes a grab for his pipe but Kili is faster, sticking out a boot that almost trips his brother. "Give that back, you menace," Fili growls under his breath.

"Ah so it is," Kili says with a laugh. Fili tries to hush him again but now Gloin and Nori are looking in their direction and Fili really doesn't want to draw their attention. Kili opens his mouth to say something in a joking tone but Fili doesn't let him get it out and rushes him, tackling his surprised brother who still manages to cuff him one as they go down in a sprawl of limbs. They wrestle about, completely rumpling their sleeping areas.

At the stewing pot, Belireis looks up as the dwarf brothers roll around like a pair of wolf cubs. "Don't be bothered by them, lass," Bofur tells her, a warm look on his face. "They're like that all the time."

"Oh, I suspect," she says with a smile. "I had brothers once," she says quietly. There is a sad memory in her eyes but she smiles fondly at the two dwarves tussling on the ground. Bofur regards her for a moment, this enigma of a woman with a kind smile and grief-riddled movements.

"Well maybe they'll stop if a beautiful lass brings them dinner," he suggests and pushes two bowls of stew into her hands. Even as she blushes fiercely he nudges her in the direction of the young dwarves. Fili has gotten the upper hand and has one of Kili's hands wrenched behind his back, pushing his brother into the ground while Kili tries in vain to kick him with Fili straddling his back.

Then Kili and Fili catch sight of her shyly approaching and Fili lets go of Kili's arm as Kili tries to frantically blow his messy hair out of his eyes. They both hastily get to their feet, Kili trying to subtly spit dirt from his mouth while Fili straightens his coat. She stops in front of them, keeping her eyes down and holding the bowls of stew out to them, shoulders about her ears slightly in embarrassment. Fili isn't moving so Kili takes over and carefully removes the bowls from her hands, careful not to move too fast with her. She has this scared animal look in her eyes and he honestly does not want to spook her right now.

"Thank you," Kili says and she nods, digging a toe into the ground behind the other ankle, hands clasped behind her back. She nods again and then walks quickly back to the fire to pass out more bowls of stew.

Kili nudges Fili with his elbow. "Sure it's not about her?" he asks suggestively. Fili punches his fist up underneath Kili's hand, splattering stew all over Kili's front. "Oh no…," Kili growls at Fili and then the brothers are at it again, rolling in the dirt.


End file.
